Maniacal: A Detective Jade Monroe Crime Thriller Book 1 (11 page)

“Or someone,” Kyle said.

Jack spoke up. “Maybe that’s it. It’s possible that the connection isn’t actually between Morris and Elise at all. It could be someone the killer knows that connects them.”

I squeezed my temples. “That’s awesome. How in the world are we going to figure that one out?” I breathed a deep sigh. “Okay, guys, we need a mental break. I took the liberty of ordering a couple of pizzas.” I glanced at the clock. “They should be here in about twenty minutes. Come on up and join us in the lunchroom. I’ll tell Doug and Jason.”

I entered the autopsy room and found Doug sitting at his computer. He glanced up when I approached him. “Sergeant, what can I do for you?”

“We have a few pizzas on the way. They should be here in fifteen minutes or so. Come on up and join us. Where’s Jason?”

I noticed Doug had just finished filling out the online paperwork for Morris’s transport to Milwaukee. He got up and turned on the printer.

“I sent him home. There’s nothing more to do tonight. We’re okay to release Mr. King’s body, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, that should be fine. There’s no forensic evidence on him. The tox report showed traces of THC, nothing else, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, then, we have all the photos and documentation we need. Lieutenant Clark said I could sign off on it. Go ahead and shut it down. There’s nothing you can do for Elise until the rigor relaxes anyway.”

Doug muttered something under his breath.

“Did you say something?”

“Yeah, I said I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

We gathered in the lunchroom, each of us scarfing down slices of pizza like hungry animals. With everything going on today, it was likely that nobody had thought much about eating until now. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I excused myself when I saw the call was from Amber.

I stood by the coffee machine and answered. “Hi, Sis.”

“What has you so busy on a Saturday?” she asked. “Are you still at the station?”

“Yeah, sorry, today has been a total nightmare.”

“Can you talk about it?”

“Nope, not yet. I have a feeling work is going to take center stage for a while. You know, I just thought of something you could do that would help us both out.”

“Really? I’ll do whatever I can.”

“How about taking the lead on looking at condos for me? I have an appointment with Melissa Mately at Realty World tomorrow to look at four places. She has a good reputation and is a buyer’s agent. She knows what I’m looking for and seems like a perfect fit for us. I was going to compare Realtors but why bother?”

“So are you saying I can move in with you?”

I heard her excitement through the phone line. I loved my little sister, and just hearing somebody that actually sounded happy warmed my heart.

“Maybe, but I
do
have conditions.”

“Anything.”

I looked back at the table. I wanted to keep my conversation with Amber private, but our lunchroom wasn’t that big. I tried to whisper. “You can’t shrink me, and I mean about anything. No relationship shrinking, no work shrinking. If I feel like sharing, I’ll let you know.”

“Done. I promise you won’t be my test subject, but we can talk about sisterly things, right?”

“Sure, as long as my private life and work cases don’t end up as one of your school essays. Also, you can only move yourself and your clothes for now. Once we actually move into a condo, you can bring the rest of your stuff from Mom’s house. We aren’t moving it twice. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Okay, then, can you do me a favor before you head to work?”

“Yep, shoot.”

“Call Melissa and tell her she can expand her search parameters to include three-bedroom condos. Introduce yourself and tell her you’re going out with her tomorrow on my behalf.”

“Got it. Give me her number.”

I rattled off Melissa’s phone number and told Amber that some of us from the department might stop in for a drink later when we left work. I was pretty certain we’d all need one.

After the lieutenant called the North Bend PD, they collected videos from a handful of businesses on Washington Street. Between their tech team and ours, they would start going through the videos later when the evening shift began.

We said good night to the deputies in the bull pen. We left them with a to-do list and promised to be back first thing in the morning. I told them that a call should be coming in soon from the deputies searching Perry’s house. If they got the “all’s clear” on the house, they could release Perry.

“Make sure he eats something too and try to keep him comfortable,” I said. “Call me if he’s let go tonight.”

“Yes, Mom,” Mitch Bryant, one of our evening deputies, said.

“Smart-ass. Okay, we’re out of here.”

A couple of drinks to wind down and a soft pillow would do it for me. Tomorrow would be another day at the station. I got into my car and led the way.

We entered Joey’s Sports Bar and Grille at seven o’clock. Jack, Dan, Kyle, Clayton, and Billings joined me. We needed a mental break from these cases even if it was just for a few drinks together on a Saturday night. The place was crowded and loud, the perfect distraction.

Amber had worked part-time at Joey’s since she turned twenty-one. Our family had known Joey Spaulding and his wife, Emily, for years, and when I was a college kid myself, I used to frequent the place often. Amber was the perfect bartender. As beautiful and outgoing as she was, people flocked to the bar to sit up close and personal with her. She had a magnetic personality and drew people in. Amber was fun loving and engaging but also sympathetic, and she listened to the late-night woes of the sad sack whose relationship or dead-end job was taking them nowhere. Her behavioral science classes served her well.

“Bless her heart,” I said as we made our way through the crowd, “she saved us a table.”

Amber grinned and waved from behind the bar and pointed to the table that had a “reserved” place card sitting on top.

Classic rock music blasted from the jukebox to our right, and the long horseshoe-shaped bar with the deep red vinyl diamond-tufted front was to our left. A row of matching barstools held twenty-five or more people, mostly college kids. Ten bar tables filled with people enjoying the weekend were scattered throughout the large establishment, and TVs were perched on every corner shelf near the ceiling. Pine paneling and old-time beer signs gave the place an “up north” vibe even though it was located on West Lincoln Street and had been there for the past thirty years.

“Okay, I’ve got the first round,” Jack said. “I’ll grab a couple of pitchers of beer.”

I got up and headed to the bar with Jack. “I’ll go with you. We need a few bowls of pretzels too.”

Amber leaned over the bar and gave us each a kiss on the cheek while the pitchers were filling at the tap.

“We need pretzels too, Sis,” I said.

Jack teased Amber while we waited for the beer. “So, I hear a change for the better is coming. Anytime you need me to straighten Bruce out, just say the word.”

Amber laughed. “I can’t wait to move in with Jade. That guy is sick, and I don’t mean it in a good way.”

She lifted the heavy pitchers and placed them on the bar. Jack handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change. She gave him another kiss on the cheek and filled two snack bowls for me. One had pretzels, the other popcorn, but it would take a lot more than pretzels and popcorn to help me forget those images of Elise that were playing in my mind. For now, knocking back a few beers with friends would have to do it.

Dime stood near the entrance; he blended in with everyone else at the crowded establishment. He intended to stay by the door. The view was better from that vantage point anyway, and he could make a quick exit if needed. He pulled his hoodie up and covered his head as he watched Amber from a distance. What a beauty she was. Good family genes. He licked his lips. He’d have to get to know her better, on a much more personal level. The voices in his head spoke up.
In time—everything has to be at the right time.
He smiled and answered, “Yeah, I know.”

Dime overheard Amber talking to a customer at the end of the bar. He inched closer so he could hear the conversation. With all the patrons in the bar, enjoying their Saturday night, he was invisible to everyone anyway.

When he’d heard enough, he slipped out of the door. Dime climbed into his Jeep, checked the time on his watch, and wrote it down. The page contained everything related to Amber Monroe. The name of Joey’s Sports Bar and Grille, along with the time and date, were listed under her name. He pulled out of the parking lot and drove the twenty minutes to his house in Jackson City.

The basement sanctuary, his place for solitude and clarity, awaited his arrival. Classical music played in the background as he got comfortable on the wooden chair. He pulled the usual Stella Artois out of the refrigerator and placed a cardboard coaster beneath it so a water ring wouldn’t form on the side table. His notebook rested on his lap. With his reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he reviewed everything he had written down. He’d overheard Amber telling that customer at the bar how excited she was to be looking at condos with Melissa Mately tomorrow. According to her sister, Jade, Melissa was the best Realtor in town. Melissa would list Jade’s house for sale and find them a great condo. Dime decided he’d pay Melissa a visit tomorrow before Amber showed up. Realty World might have to hire a new agent soon.

I’ll act like I’m new in town and plan to buy a house. She’ll happily give me all her contact information, as ambitious as she sounds. Melissa and I are going to have a private showing real soon.

Killing Melissa would fit into his plan perfectly. Nobody would expect that. She wasn’t on anybody’s radar. With her occupation, she could easily meet up with foul play. Being a hot-looking female Realtor was stupid on so many levels. Any nutcase could call and lure her away to a remote location and have their way with her. He stared at her picture and profile on the Realty World website. Melissa Mately was single, thirty-two, and ambitious. She was one of their top earners. He’d have a great time alone with her before she would die. He thought about the best way to kill her. It had to be relevant to her job. That seemed to be his new MO.

I could jam the house-listing sheet down her throat and choke her with it. Maybe I could impale her with the stake from the For Sale sign
. He chuckled at his options.
I
have to find a very remote home to have her show me, something secluded and very expensive. It has to be a home that isn’t shown often because of the high asking price, and preferably with acreage. I don’t want nosy neighbors seeing me.

He took a sip of his beer as he scanned his tablet for listings with acreage.
Hmm… this one looks interesting.
An aerial photo showed this private enclave on Oriole Lane as the ultimate gentleman’s farm. A four-thousand-square-foot home with a five-car garage and several outbuildings was their most expensive listing. It was being offered with seventeen acres, ten in open field, perfect for raising horses. The house sat in the middle of seven beautifully wooded acres located at the end of a meandering paved driveway. This was a prestigious sanctuary for the most discriminating buyer wanting privacy.

Yes, this one will definitely do. I’m all about privacy. I’ll check out the area tomorrow.

Lieutenant Colgate had several detectives working the Morris King end of the case. They paid Terrance a visit and had him write down every person’s name he could think of that Morris had known, no matter how insignificant the relationship might have been. Terrance came up with fourteen names. They rounded up Morris’s boys too at the park. Another twenty-six names were added to the list. Detective Lindstrom called my desk at noon.

“Washburn County Sheriff’s Department, Sergeant Monroe speaking. How may I help you?”

“Sergeant, Detective Lindstrom here.”

“Hi, Bill, what have you got?”

“Well, first I wanted to extend my sympathy. I heard about the second victim from the lieutenant. I hear you knew the deceased.”

“Yeah, it’s such a shame. She was actually my yoga instructor and a casual friend. We’re expecting her husband soon. He said he was getting together every name he could think of for us, including his own acquaintances. How’s it going on your end?”

Jack held up the coffeepot. I nodded. He poured me a fresh cup.

“We have forty names between his little gang boys and the uncle. I can email or fax you the list.”

I took a sip of coffee. “That would be great. Fax is fine. I’m not optimistic that we’ll find a match, but at least we can rule out a connection if none of the names cross-reference. Oh, by the way, we’re releasing Morris’s body back to his uncle on Monday. A transport will deliver Morris’s body to… hang on”—I checked my notes—“shoot, all I have is Calvary Baptist Church. That isn’t going to work. I’ll have to call Terrance King and find out what funeral home he plans to use.”

“Don’t worry about it, Sergeant. I’ll handle it. You have enough on your plate.”

“Are you sure?”

“No problem. Okay, you should be getting the fax any minute now. Keep us posted if you get a match. Better yet, keep us posted anyway. Enjoy your Sunday if you can.”

“Same to you. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and pulled the sheet with the list of names out of the fax machine. Now all I needed was for Perry to finish his list. He was released late last night and apparently spent the night at his folks’ house. He called in a half hour ago and said he needed to stop at home to pick up his own tax client list.

“Is Doug here?” Jack asked.

“I haven’t seen him. Maybe he’s taking today off. Elise’s autopsy will probably go better tomorrow anyway, but he’s going to have to make that decision. Perry will have to come back again for the ID. Maybe a picture of her face is all that’s necessary for now. We could probably show Perry that much.”

The door between the reception counter and the bull pen buzzed open, and Perry was escorted in. He looked a mess. Bags hung under his still red, puffy eyes. His hair looked as though it hadn’t been washed or combed. He walked in with a manila folder in his hand.