Killer Love (61 page)

“Tell us about the cleaning crew,” Frank interjected. “You guys have your own staff or you use a service?”

“A service. I have the name and number if you’d like.” She closed her eyes and said. “How was he killed? Was it the same way as Mona?”

Sam glanced at Frank. “We’re not at liberty to discuss details at this time. We’re investigating the possibility it is the same killer, but we can’t know for sure just yet.”

Giselle opened her eyes and nodded. “I understand.”

“Would you know of anyone who works here who has a special interest or knowledge of exotic animals?”

“Exotic animals?” Giselle echoed. “You mean, like tigers?”

“No, more like...” Sam almost couldn’t say it, but she cleared her throat and continued, “...reptiles. Snakes.”

Giselle’s eyes widened. “Snakes? You mean like, serpents, like real, live
snakes
?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God, is that how he...” Her face paled and her fingers nervously pleated the silky gold material resting on her thigh. “Oh God,” she repeated.

“Miss Corinthia, could you please answer the question?”

“Well, no, I have no idea about that. I’ve never heard anyone mention anything like that.”

“Anyone make a trip to California lately that you know of?”

Giselle sighed, shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I wish I could be more help.”

“You’re doing fine,” Frank said. “Just relax. Can I get you a water or something?”

“No. Thanks. I’m good.” She smiled wanly. “It’s a little freaky, you know? I mean, what’s happening around here?” She gave a delicate shudder. “Makes me want to rethink my career choice. You know, now it looks like the killer would have to be someone from one of the shows. Except...” Her brows drew together and she shook her head, quickly, briefly. “No. That’s crazy.”

“What is it? Nothing is too far-fetched. We need to hear anything that might be related.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just that I kind of wondered about Vin. He and Mona were always fighting, he always wanted to take and take from her. Then, he’d go off partying, fooling around with all these beautiful young women. Making Mona feel like dog shit, you know?”

“But did Mr. Rollins know Mr. Clayton? Would he have any reason to want to hurt him?”

One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I just thought, maybe. You know, since Mona and Carson were sleeping together.”

****

“Did you know about that?” Frank asked, speaking to Sam, but watching Giselle’s hips sway as she left.

“The affair or that you have the hots for Ms. Corinthia?” Sam teased.

“The affair,” Frank replied, his face coloring.

“No. Had no idea. Could figure into the murders, though. I mean, if the boyfriend killed Morrison and knew about the affair, makes sense he might go after Clayton.”

“We’ll check his alibi. Go have a chat with him.”

“Yeah, but the problem with the alibi is we have no idea when the snake was planted.”

“True. Still won’t hurt to talk to the guy.”

Walburn appeared in the doorway of the lounge. “ME’s here,” he told them.

“Thanks,” Sam said, her heart pounding almost as fast as it had over the snake, although she refused to analyze the reason.

On trembling legs, Sam reluctantly made her way to Clayton’s office. Even though she knew the snake was gone, it didn’t keep her from being a tad nervous. After all, it was possible they ran in packs, like wolves or something.

Dex was squatting next to Clayton’s chair, his gloved hands turning the corpse’s face in different angles. He looked up when Sam and Frank entered and gave Sam a quick smile.

“Hey there, Doc,” Frank said. “Whaddaya think?”

“Cause of death looks like a snake bite.”

“Yep, thought so.”

Dex straightened. “I’ll let you know my findings as soon as I do the prelim. Unless you want to attend again?”

Sam shook her head. “No, thanks. One autopsy a week is enough for me.”

Dex nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll try to get to it tomorrow. Probably the same killer. I want to do whatever I can to help stop him before he kills again.”

“Thanks, our feelings exactly,” Sam replied.

The three of them walked outside, standing together in the still-falling mist, and watched as the body was loaded into the coroner’s van.

When the van drove away, Dex cast a quick glance at Frank, then at Sam. “Can I talk to you for a sec? In private?”

Frank lifted his brows, giving Sam a curious look. “Sure.” He nodded. “I’ll call in and see if we can get a location on Rollins. Maybe we can talk to him tonight.”

“Great,” Sam replied, wondering what Dex could possibly want. “I’ll just be a minute.”

After Frank left, Sam and Dex stepped beneath the awning, out of the rain. Dex studied her for a moment, sighed, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I heard you found the body. Found the snake.”

“Yes.” Sam shuddered involuntarily. “What about it?”

“I just...I want you to be careful. I mean, this guy is dangerous and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

A warm flush spread through her and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. She wasn’t accustomed to men worrying about her. “I’ll be fine. Despite what Hollywood leads moviegoers to believe, killers seldom go after the cops on the case. Plays well on screen, but it’s not reality.”

“Maybe. But come on, the car accident, the snake. Who knows what might happen next?” He removed his hands from his pockets and reached out to take one of hers. “I care about you. I just want you to be safe.”

Don’t care about me, please don’t care about me because I could find you way, way too hard to resist and I don’t need this. Not again.

Sam tugged her hand from his and forced a professional note to her voice. “I appreciate your concern, Doctor Hawkins, but I can assure you, the department is taking every precaution to keep the officers on the case safe.”

She met his eyes and thought she saw a brief flash of hurt, but he only nodded and said, “That’s good to know, Detective. I’ll contact you with the autopsy results.”

Sam thanked him and hurried away, not looking back as she climbed into the shelter of her car.

****

The killer brought the frosty mug of beer to his lips and took a long, grateful swallow. All around him, voices rose in conversations ranging from the unusual heat wave, to the presidential election, to the Reds’ chances of making the playoffs.

Normally, he’d join in, but now his attention was riveted on the television behind the bar. Once again, just as he’d predicted, the news crew was on location at Valiant Studios. This time, the reporter was a man, tall, thin, wearing a raincoat and squinting in the drizzling rain. The sound was muted but words scrolled across the bottom of the screen in white on black captioning.

Reports have not been confirmed, however, sources say a man was found dead this evening in an office at Valiant Studios, where the Judge Mona show is filmed. The identity of the victim has not been released, but it is rumored that authorities suspect foul play.

As you may recall, a week ago today, on the morning of July 11
th
, Judge Mona Morrison was found dead in her home. Police are investigating the possibility that these murders are connected.

Stay tuned to WYKG news, we’ll update you as more information becomes available.

He tightened his grip on the mug. A shiver ran through him that was part fear, part elation.
It worked.
He couldn’t believe it, but it had actually worked. The snake had fucking
killed
the guy.

He took another swig of the beer, his attention so captured by the news report that the voices around him merged into one resounding, indistinguishable jangle.

This just in,
the transcript on the screen continued,
early reports, although not confirmed, indicate the victim is station manager, Carson Clayton.

He just barely refrained from pumping a fist in the air.

Yes!

For a brief moment, he’d been concerned. It had occurred to him that his slithery friend may have targeted the wrong victim. After all, snakes were probably indiscriminate killers. But now he was certain. Clayton had been the recipient of the rattler’s toxic venom.

Inside, he was filled with a strange mix of glee and terror. Quite possibly, he was smarter than the cops. He was actually getting by with murder.

It’s all for a good cause, he assured himself. They deserved it, each and every one of them. And he was ready for the next phase.
Willing
and ready. The willing part was what really freaked him out. When had he morphed from reluctant slayer to joyful executioner?

He allowed himself a small grin behind the beer mug as he marveled at how easy this murder thing was becoming.

Chapter Nine

Frank told Sam that when he called Calvin Rollins’ apartment, his roommate said that Vin was out, most likely at his favorite nightclub,
Bonger’s
, which was the place he’d invited Sam to.

Frank and Sam rode together to the club. The parking lot was packed, but they parked next to the sidewalk near the door—one perk of being in law enforcement.

As soon as she exited the car, Sam could hear music booming from the club. It was loud, some kind of new age rock and roll she didn’t recognize and most definitely didn’t enjoy. Who knew that, at thirty-three, she could be so out of touch with what was hip in the music industry?

Her ‘out of touch’ vibe increased when they went inside and most of the patrons looked half her age. That, combined with her blazer, slacks, and unflattering ponytail, made her feel old and frumpy...and she didn’t give a damn. She’d take old and frumpy over this obnoxiously loud, claustrophobia-inducing bar any time.

She and Frank made their way through the bodies, some laughing and drinking, some dancing to the beat of the music, even though they weren’t on the dance floor. Sam’s headache was coming back. She’d almost rather slam her noggin into the car again than continue listening to the excruciatingly loud pounding of the music that literally shook the ground beneath her feet.

Looking around the crowd, she spotted Rollins over by the bar, chatting up a girl with piercings and spiky, multi-colored hair. Sam tapped Frank on the shoulder and pointed, saving her voice for when she’d have to shout at Rollins to be heard over the club noise.

Rollins looked up as they approached and the ‘I’m all that’ smile disappeared from his face when he recognized them.

“Can we have a word with you?” Sam yelled.

His eyes darted to the girl, then around the bar, and back to Sam. He shrugged as if to say ‘Do I have a choice?’

Sam took him by the arm and led him over to the bathrooms where the noise level was at ‘unbearable’ as opposed to ‘deafening.’

“Do you know Carson Clayton?” Sam asked.

Rollins’ handsome face scrunched into a scowl as if the effort of thinking was foreign to him. “Mona’s station manager?”

Sam nodded. Frank stood behind her with his notebook, ready to jot down any words of wisdom the genius might spew.

“No,” Rollins said. “I mean, I know who he is, but I never met him. Why?”

“He was found dead this evening.” No reaction. “Did you know he and Mona were sleeping together?”

His face tightened and he shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

“Because, why would she, since she had a stud like you?”

His full lips stretched into a smug smile. “Something like that.”

“Well, that’s the talk around the water cooler. We figured if you knew, it might give you a reason to dislike the guy.”

Rollins shrugged. “It’s a free country. We weren’t married. And it’s not like I didn’t have other bitches, you know?”

Sam let that one pass. “You know anything about snakes?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Like, what about them? Like, they’re scary as shit? I know that much.”

“You ever own any?”

“Fuck, no. Whassup with this shit? I’m trying to hang out and chill and you’re givin me grief.”

“Sorry if a murder investigation is cramping your style,” Sam shouted, her voice growing hoarse from having to yell above the racket. “That’s all we have for now, but I would advise you to be available in case more questions come up.”

“Am I a suspect?” His face suddenly looked pale, even with the fake-bake thing he had going on.

“Let’s just say you’re a person of interest. We’ll be in touch.”

She and Frank threaded their way back through the crowd, which seemed to have increased in numbers, if that were possible.

Finally, they were out in the cool, fresh air and Sam took a deep lungful of it before turning to Frank.

“What do you think?”

“Huh?” He cupped a hand behind his ear. “I think my eardrum’s busted.” He shook his head. “Damn kids.”

“What do you think about Rollins? Does he look good for it?”

Frank shrugged. “Don’t know. He seems like a punk, but a killer? Not sure I get that vibe from him.”

Sam didn’t either, but so far, she hadn’t gotten that ‘vibe’ from anyone. And she needed to. Before the killer claimed another victim.

****

Sam arrived at the chief’s house just as evening chased away the last remnants of the day’s heat.

The home—correction—mansion was an enormous red brick and limestone structure with a wrap-around porch and french bay windows. Small, trickling fountains lined the walk, leading to an ornate mahogany door. The front room was gargantuan with a high, oak-beamed ceiling and a massive stone fireplace flanked by stately white columns.

The party was being held in a large ballroom off the living area. Elegant chandeliers sparkled above the party-goers, picking up the glinting highlights of jewels and finery of the women, offset by the men’s stylish tuxedos.

The chief had not amassed his fortune with the salary the city paid him, generous as it was. He’d married money in the form of Eliza Wessel, an heiress whose family made their fortune building luxury resorts around the world.

Sam stepped inside the ballroom, suddenly feeling conspicuously alone as she gazed at those in attendance—so coupled up, she’d almost think they were passengers from Noah’s ark.