Charity Kills (A David Storm Mystery) (12 page)

Looking at both of them, Storm asked, “How you two doing? Find anything new?”

“Yes, actually we did,” Grady grinned. “Looks like there have been a few suspicious deaths of young women around the Dome grounds and it looks like it’s been going on for the past seven years.”

“Seven years?” whistled Storm. “All during the Show?”

“Yep. All during the barbecue or while the Show was in full swing.”

“What else?”

“Six young women, plus your new one, all in their twenties, all brunettes, all from small towns, all found naked with their throats slashed.”

“This is getting hinky. Why hasn’t this been on someone’s radar screen before? Were any of them solved?”

“Not that we can find. Not even a mention of a suspect or if the cases were ever solved.”

Russell pulled out a list of names and pictures of the six girls. “All young, all pretty, and all dead,” he commented. “All killed the same way, all to add to the Leslie Phillips case. We’re not any closer to this one, are we? All we’ve done is add more unsolveds to the list.”

“Looks that way. We got one hell of mystery going on here, fellas, don’t we?” Storm said afraid to say what he really thought. These could all be the handiwork of a serial murderer, and someone—or lots of someones—were complicit in covering it up.

“Look, guys, keep digging but don’t let it get out, keep it under wraps, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Grady and I have lots more traps to run and dirt to dig, but we’re playing this close to the vest. Chu and her bunch of ankle biters won’t get their hooks into this ‘til we break it and the bad guys get caught.”

Grady laughed. “It’s nice to be doing something again and doing it with you guys makes it even better,” he said. “I’m not letting this one get out.”

“Can I have a copy of that list?” asked Storm, as he prepared to leave.

“Sure. What you planning on doing with it?”

“Going back to see Alisha, see if she has anything more on this girl and see if she can pull any files on the other girls without anyone finding out what she is doing.”

“Oh, yeah, the assistant M.E. Last time I saw her I asked her, ‘How you like your new boss?’ At which time I got a snide sneer and a kiss-my-ass smile. She knew that I knew M.E. Roberts is another blithering idiot political appointee. What more could she say?”

* * * *

Back at the Show offices, another meeting was taking place. Dakota Taylor and Sergeant Hebert were in Leon Powers’ office and they had Vern Nagel on the speakerphone. Powers just stared across his desk at Dakota and Hebert and he didn’t have a happy look on his face. Hebert knew that this was no time for him or Dakota to hide anything or polish the apple. Powers was serious and wanted to know what was going on. “What does he know?” referring to Detective Storm.

Dakota responded, “Nothing yet, or at least he doesn’t seem to. He came in and asked for the video disk from security. All we had to give him was the main entrance and escalator going to the second floor. Jeff gave him copies and he left and went to see Sergeant Hebert for the stadium videos.”

Powers turned to Hebert. “Well?” His lips puckered up in a way that said without words, “This is not the time to do anything but lay out the all the facts as they are known at this time. So get on with it.”

“He came to see me, told me what he needed, and I told him I would have to get them. He said to have one of my people deliver them to him downtown.” Hebert didn’t say anything about the animosity between him and the Desk Boy, and he sure didn’t want to mess this gravy train up. He had been given the opportunity to take over this plum from his predecessors, and the money he made here equaled his police salary for a year. The added income was his retirement fund and nobody was going to screw that up. Nobody. Most of the money was unreported and buried tin cans full of the cash filled his back yard. Not even Powers knew about the under the table money he got for turning a blind eye to certain goings-on and directing his men and the one lone woman under him to do the same.

“Have you seen them? Did you see anything that could prove to be embarrassing a liability to the Show?” Powers demanded, looking directly at Hebert to see if he twitched.

“Yes, sir. I watched them all once closely,” replied Hebert. “I didn’t see anyone take her out of the stadium.”

“Did you see her go in then?”

“Yes.” Hebert knew the next question and readied himself to answer it.

“Who with?”

“Joe Dresden,” Hebert said in a hushed voice, as if someone might overhear him.

Every eye in the room rolled, and Vern just gave out a loud sigh on the other end of the phone. Hebert and everyone else in the room knew Joe Dresden. He was a ne’er-do-well who had married “up” and lived like he’d earned every bit of it. His wife, the former Ellen Hitchcock, now Ellen Dresden, was one of the richest women in Houston and from a family that built a solid business from the ground up. Ellen had taken over the helm of her father’s business when he passed. Joe was her second husband and had worked for her as a sales associate when they met. He moved up to president of the company when she became the CEO as the successor to her father. The company was the biggest distributor in the Southwest for a locally owned air handling supplier. The company had contracts with everyone in Houston, mostly because of her father’s business savvy and later due to Ellen’s own shrewdness in getting the business classified as “minority owned” when she took over.

Ellen had been a member of the Livestock Show for a number of years and when she started dating Joe, he became a fixture in the VIP clubs and restaurants. Everyone knew about Joe and Ellen. Ellen was homelier than a mud fence, obnoxious, pushy, and generally not a nice person, but she put a lot of money into the Show, so everyone kissed her ass. After they married, Joe became the leader of the kissers. Joe had always been a philanderer and Ellen knew it, but as long as she didn’t get hit in the face with any of his dalliances she turned a blind eye. People laughed and whispered behind their backs, but nobody overtly would utter a word. Her money was too important to piss her off, so they just let Joe be and let him act as if he was one of them.

“OK, so she went in with Joe Dresden. What exactly did you see, Sergeant?”

“About 11:00 PM on the night of the murder I saw Joe and the girl go up the elevator, headed, I assume, to the VIP club on the ninth floor. They were with a group of people, all directors and above, and a bunch of other women.”

“Did you watch the entire tape?” interrupted Powers.

“Not a tape anymore,” Dakota officiously threw in, “it’s a disk now.”

Looking as if he was trying not to show his frustration, Powers ignored her. “OK, did you watch this disk?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, go on with the story then.”

“Nothing more to tell. I saw Joe and a couple of the other men leave about an hour later but I never saw the girl leave.”

“Nothing at all, not hide nor hair of the girl again anywhere on the disk?” Powers growled.

“No, sir.”

“Right. So how did she end up in a garbage dumpster?”

“I don’t know,” answered Hebert, deciding brevity was best in this situation.

“Dakota, have you seen this disk?” asked Powers

“No, sir,” Dakota said, shaking her head.

“OK, I want you to watch it with the sergeant and I want you both to double check it to see if there’s anything—anything at all, that might embarrass the Show.”

“Yes, sir,” chimed in Hebert. “We‘re on it right now.” He rose hurriedly, eager to be on his way.

“By the way, can you sanitize this disk?” This was not an unexpected question from Powers, but it still caught Hebert, and Dakota, too, he suspected, off guard.

“What do you mean, Mr. Powers?” The idea of suppressing evidence scared both Dakota and Hebert and the shock registered on their faces.

“If you find something we don’t want out, I want it cleaned. You have to make a copy for this Storm fellow, anyway, don’t you? Well, when you do, erase anything you think might embarrass us.” Leon Powers didn’t have to repeat himself to make himself understood.

“Do we leave out Joe taking her in?” asked Dakota.

“No, leave Joe in. He may have to be the sacrificial lamb if we need him,” said Powers dismissively, and with a wave of his hand the meeting was over and everyone knew it was time to leave. Nagel hung up after saying he’d fill in the mayor.

* * * *

Not trusting that Vern Nagel was on top of things, Leon Powers reached for his phone. It was time for him to talk to the mayor directly and make sure His Honor understood the significance of control and silence.

Leon Powers was the CEO of a multibillion dollar concern with thousands of employees and huge revenues coming in daily. With a heady Ivy League education and a willingness to sacrifice anything or anyone to further his own prestige and career, he had risen to the top by always being in control of his own destiny. For years he had had to deal with politicians and he retained one of the best lobbying firms in the state of Texas. So dealing with the new mayor was not just a concern, it was a necessity.

He had accepted the role of president of the Livestock Show and Rodeo for his pleasure. It was a voluntary job but not without its perks. It added to his resume, put him in the public eye as a philanthropist, and meant he sat on an executive board with some of Houston’s most powerful, rich, and elite families; exactly where he wanted to be. His term as president was three years, at which time he would move to the executive committee, where he would continue as a member until such time as he wanted to step down or he died. Leon was married, and although his wife had never showed any interest in the charity, his children did, and he made sure they were placed on high profile committees. He also saw to it that they were allowed to use the Rodeo as their private playground and, of course, granted all the privileges to which the children of the president are entitled.

Mayor Richard Lemay answered his private cell phone. Only a handful of people had the number.

“Richard, this is Lee.” Leon Powers had never liked the name “Leon.”

“Yes, Lee, what can I do for you?”

“I know you are aware of the unfortunate events of Sunday morning out here.”

“Yes, I am.” The mayor waited.

“You’ve got some cop out here digging around and we can’t have him finding anything that could be scandalous for the largest contributor of incidental income to the city. Do I make myself clear?” The threat was not veiled. Powers knew the mayor would understand exactly what Powers was saying.

“I am aware and I have been assured by chief of police and Lieutenant Flynn, who is his immediate supervisor, that the detective they assigned to the case fits our standards perfectly, perfectly, for this job. Lieutenant Flynn has assured me that Detective Storm is a burn-out waiting for retirement.”

“Richard, there are many influential people involved out here and I know you don’t want anyone connected to the city embarrassing them or their favorite charity.”

Powers got some satisfaction from imagining Lemay cringing. The threat was not veiled. Leon Powers and the people that ran the Livestock Show were among the richest and most powerful kingdom builders in town. He knew the mayor didn’t need or want to piss them off; he needed their support if he was going to continue to run the fourth largest city in nation.

“Lee, I will dig into this as soon as we are off this call and this will go away, or if a killer is found, it won’t be linked to the Show.”

“I knew you would see it my way, Richard, and I know you can handle this. Thanks for your cooperation. You need to come out as my guest soon. How about the day of the President’s visit? Good photo op for you, even if you are from that other political party!” With a small laugh, Leon disconnected the call.

* * * *

Goddamn it, shit, I don’t need this now, thought Richard Lemay. The press was already all over him about the failure of his crime lab and his reneging on his pre-election promises to not raise property taxes. He pushed his intercom button. “Get Vern Nagel and the police chief in my office
now
!” he ordered his assistant. Almost as an afterthought he told her, “Add Lieutenant Flynn to the list, as well.”

One More Addition

When Storm got to the Sharps Building he checked in with the receptionist and went to meet Alisha. She was working on another body, this time a young kid who looked about ten years old. As the bile rose in Storm’s throat he fought the urge to vomit. This was one of his most hated sights—kids dead.

“What happened here, Alisha?” Storm covered his mouth from the involuntary gag reaction.

“Floater, his father found him face down in next door neighbor’s pool. Told the cops the boy had been missing about two hours and that neighbors were gone. Supposedly the gates were locked. But you know kids, when there is a will they will find a way.”

“Damn, Alisha, that is three drownings this month, isn’t it, and it’s still too cold for a kid to want to go swimmin’, isn’t it?”

“Four, four kids, and it is just the start of March,” said Alisha.

“Damn!” Storm shook his head, moving on from this objectionable subject. He had his own fish to fry. “Did you find anything new on our girl?”

“No, not much. I did do a DNA test on the semen found in the girl’s vagina, but although there was bruising in her rectum, there was no semen there. She was penetrated both vaginally and rectally, but there was only lubricant in the rectum and everything indicates she was dead when that happened although still warm.

“If we find a suspect at least we got something to run their DNA against and we can run our sample against all the data bases I have access to.” Added Alisha

“Could it have been two guys? One before she died and one after?”

“Could be, although without semen in the rectum, I can’t be sure it was two. Either way, someone(s) had sex with her before and after she died from the front and from the back.”

“So, it could it have been one guy?”

“The first must have been hurried, he must have been using a condom to leave the spermicide but it must have broke or he was sloppy, because he left traces of semen for us to find. If there was a second, they took their time or the first was no longer in a hurry, but as I said, he left nothing to match except the brand of lubricant.”