Mindfield (Sideways Eight Book 1) (16 page)

Chapter 18

Sweet Suffocation

Manassas, VA - Medical Examiner’s Office

Wednesday, 27 April – 4:00PM

Angled next to Murphy, Charley, and he waited alongside the steel slab, for Carmichael to provide answers. Olivia’s face glowed under the exam light illuminating her fine features. A white sheet draped her body. Her soft, sable hair touched her shoulders and flared onto the table. Charley lowered her head and scooted closer to him. Murphy responded to her solace, placing his arm around her shoulders. Tiny tears gathered in the inner corners of her eyes. He gave her a light hug. Acceptance followed her arm around his waist. A smile from him would have been inappropriate instead, his heart fluttered. He drew her in closer as she buried her face into the side of his chest.

Carmichael entered from the private ME’s office door with a purposeful step and a precocious expression. The excited glint in his eyes seemed out of character.

Charley hid her face and wiped her eyes.

Murphy whispered into her hair. “I have a hunch this will be hinky.”

At the crime scene, Charley questioned the lack of strangulation marks around the victim’s neck. “Same here.”

They repositioned their stance as Carmichael made his way to the exam station. The ME settled across from them and tipped his hand. “Afternoon.” Eager, he waved his palms towards them. “You’ll love this.”

“Let’s hear it,” she said.

Carmichael’s eyes pinned them both. “Helium.” His gloved hands grasped the rim of the slab.

Charley’s mouth dropped. “You’re kidding.”

Murphy scratched his brow. “Helium? You mean the gas used for balloons?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“Helium can kill?”

“A new form of peaceful suicide,” Carmichael said. “More common every day.”

“How does it work?”

“Helium canisters are available at any party store.” Carmichael lifted the drape from the body, folding it across the chest. “Connect plastic tubing and an oxygen mask.”

“Why not use the car exhaust and hose method?”

“Death by that method is not as pretty as the entertainment industry depicts. Victims don’t fall asleep. It’s painful.” His finger directed their attention to Olivia’s face. “Facial capillaries burst, the eyeballs pop, the tongue becomes anamorphic, swells and protrudes causing the jaw to form in an unnatural position.”

“Sounds ugly, and helium?”

“Flawless and until recently undetectable. During the initial examination, we couldn’t find a cause of death. We ran every test possible. A lab tech suggested the killer pulled a ‘Walter White’. We tested for ricin, zero. I recalled a suicide case in South Carolina. The body is unremarkable, showing no external signs of poisoning, nothing. Helium is also environmentally friendly.”

Murphy shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Great, a green conscious killer.”

“How long did it take Olivia to die?” Charley said.

“After placing the mask over the airway while she slept,” Carmichael shielded his mouth, “unconsciousness occurred within seconds, and death in minutes.”

Murphy rubbed his forehead hard as he spun around, shaking his head. “This is just… poor baby.” He turned back around. “Tell me something. How do you know she died while asleep?”

Carmichael pointed at the victim’s eyes. “Sleep eye matter was present. No blood constriction in the nasal cavity, trachea, or lungs, and no muscle restriction to indicate an intense physical reaction, meaning no signs of struggle.”

“Helium. Our killer may be well-schooled in chemistry,” Charley said.

“Or someone who knows how to search the net,” Murphy said.

“The distilled water, was it present in her system as well?”

“Yes.”

“Why would he give them distilled water?” Murphy said.

Charley’s eyes shifted over the body. “Unsullied.”

“Unsullied?” Murphy said.

“The girls were clean, dressed in well-maintained clothing. There’s no sign of sexual abuse.” Charley played with her chin. “The perp placed them on a blanket. He didn’t want their bodies touching the ground.”

“Like a phobia, he goes to great lengths to avoid uncleanliness.”

“Automysophobia, fear of being dirty, but his fear lies with the girls, whether he’s self-practicing, I don’t know.”

“Interesting. He didn’t want their bodies touching the ground, helium being light, has a purity quality.”

Charley nodded. “In a twisted sense it may indicate he’s levitating them above the ground. He’s assisting them to heaven.”

Murphy directed his attention to Carmichael. “What about stomach contents?”

“She had a healthy meal of fish, fresh veggies, and skim milk. Perfect diet for a diabetic.”

“That is so… contradictory. What time did she eat dinner?”

“About nine in the evening. Three hours before her death.”

“He’s becoming more resourceful and shrewd,” she said. “He doesn’t like messy, suggests OCD.”

“Is he finished?” Carmichael said.

“He’s just getting started. We have no motive, which gives me nothing.” Charley shifted closer to the body and caressed Olivia’s cheek. “‘Little girls, like butterflies, need no excuse’. Robert A. Heinlein.”

“I say religion ties in,” Carmichael said.

“Let’s examine that,” Charley said. “Let’s explore this from a nihilistic point of view. Review from an outside perspective, disconnected from society or mankind, without religion or social values.”

“We find religions have as many differences as likenesses,” Murphy said.

“If we’re alien, we would view blind faith as a weakness. Something we’d use to conquer,” Carmichael said.

“As superior beings we would lay back, observe, and find what makes these individuals believe,” Charley said. “As aliens, we might assume man is so flawed he must seek redemption to define his worth.”

Carmichael shook his finger. “I like that. How does this relate to the children?”

“Guilt brought on by teachings. Theoretically, if one hasn’t been exposed, one doesn’t experience it.”

“Same as you don’t miss something you’ve never had,” Murphy said.

“Still doesn’t explain why the killer chooses children,” Carmichael said.

“Sure it does. Robin and Olivia are the catalysts for the killings to occur. The lowest form of murder is to kill a child. He’s punishing himself and possibly another party.” She waved her hands over the body. “There’s love here, perverted, but to him it is real. It’s obvious by how he displayed the girls. The care he took with them until their death. Afterwards, he wanted them to look pretty, untouched, almost martyred. It’s… romanticism in its purest form.”

“You make it sound so peaceful and respectful,” Murphy said.

“He was, by finding a simpler, less painful way for Olivia to die. The respectful position he placed them. He didn’t dump the little girls on the roadside or in a dumpster. He set the stage. There’s no hate involved, but love. He wants forgiveness.”

Carmichael crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t understand the religious connection.”

“Guilt, this goes back to the belief in ancestral sin.” Charley’s pace became methodical. “Without guilt, there is no sin.”

Murphy placed his hands on his hips. “Original sin. Martin Luther attested guilt occurs at the moment of conception.”

Charley’s face brightened. “However, something happened to him, which triggered this evil behavior. He’s channeling his guilt through the girls, which manifested due to love. He accepts his fate of being captured. Self-punishment. Robin and Olivia are the conduits.”

“What’s our next move?” Murphy said.

“We search outside who they are and what was used. This is a case of don’t study the victims, study what surrounds the victims.”

“The crime scene.” Murphy ran his hand from his crown to his neck. “Three dimensional layers.”

“Yes, and common sense is useless.”

“Doc, was Olivia given insulin?”

“Yes.”

“Where did he get it?”

“Insulin is obtainable if needed. The killer may be diabetic, or he’s close to someone who is.”

“I know at least four people who are diabetics,” Charley said.

“This goes back to my suggestion he is associated with the medical or pharmaceutical community. Maybe he’s in sales or distribution,” Murphy said.

“He caught a lucky break, otherwise Olivia would have died due to illness, and not by him.”

“Means Olivia talked to him. Unless he was familiar with the symptoms and took action. Seems strange he plans to kill her but managed her necessary healthcare.”

“He had no hate or animosity towards Robin or Olivia. He had no choice. His disconnect compelled his actions to end their lives. Killing the girls was compulsive. He must kill them or he becomes overwhelmed by anxiety. He’s impulsive and irrational about one particular thing. Whatever the trigger is, it controls him, he can’t escape.”

Murphy raised his hands in front of his chest. “Wait, this may be out there, but how about humiliation by girls in the school yard, cruel sisters, or rejected by a crush?”

Carmichael perked his shoulders. “I can think of a few ex-girlfriends who could drive a man to murder.”

Murphy and Charley laughed.

“Girl problems during your youth, Carmichael?” Murphy snickered.

“You can say that.” He grinned.

“What next, Char?”

“With regret, we attend another funeral.”

Chapter  19

Dirty Archives

Lorton, VA – Faraday Farms

Monday – 2 May – 3:23 PM

Hunched over the oak dining room table, Charley spread the building plans for the swingers’ club, Sirens and Studs across the surface. A cherry lollipop crammed in the side of her mouth, she studied the blueprints obtained from the county planning office. She twisted her shoulders and stood upright, crossing her arms over her chest. Pacing back and forth, she contemplated how to infiltrate the facility undetected. A utility ladder scaled the rear of the building leading to the roof. From there, use the maintenance door to access the main floor to the office. Charley shook her head, without a lookout, maneuvering her way through the building would be difficult. Sirens and Studs, a twenty-four-hour operation, employed several security personal.

An inquiring telephone call offered enough information to learn guards made rounds and posted in several areas throughout the facility. The establishment also possessed high-tech electronics, complete with cameras, infrared lasers, and ear-bursting alarms. Why would they need high-tech equipment? Charley pulled back the corner of her mouth, simple: politicians, judges, those so-called important people. The membership manifest would be an extortionist’s favorite fantasy.

She rolled the lollipop in her mouth, crunched the confection, and swallowed. Footsteps rambled in her direction, coming to a halt, Murphy pressed his shoulder against the doorframe, his arms, and ankles crossed.

Charley grabbed the corner of the blueprint and flipped it over. She teased her lips with her fingertips as her eyes scurried to make sure she hid the evidence.

His full lips crimped, Murphy arched an eyebrow. He pointed at the oversized document on the table. “Is that what I think it is?”

Charley lowered her chin and nodded.

Murphy pushed from the frame and sidled behind her. Hands on his hips, he leaned against her and placed his mouth to her ear. “I can’t believe you’re considering this.”

“Two dead children.” Her eyes remained forward. “I must do everything possible to find the killer.”

“Who’s your accomplice?”

She shook her head. The catch in her throat forced her voice to a whisper. “No one.” Charley took a step forward toward the table edge. “I don't want to, but… I want to find out if there is a connection between Sirens and Studs and the swingers’ occult club in Berlin. I have little choice. If they are connected, there must be a trail. My guess, it's on the PC.”

Murphy remained behind her. His hands on her upper arms, he craned his neck and spoke into her ear. “I wish you would reconsider. It’s dangerous.”

“Not like I haven’t faced danger. The two of us are close friends.”

“You say that, but never explain it.”

Charley shook her head. “You don’t want to know.”

Still behind her, their bodies touching, Murphy squeezed her arms. He lowered his head close to hers. “How will we access the PC?”

Charley released a relieved sigh, dropping her head. “Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder, smiling as she turned the blueprint over. “I'll talk with Ralph about some high tech equipment and gadgets.”

He turned her towards him. “Who's Ralph?”

“The man is an electronic genius. He can build or design anything.”

“Such as?”

“Powerful scanners that detect anything, such as hidden cams, recorders. I’m not sure what equipment is installed at the club.”

Murphy pointed at the schematic, plotting the office safe location. “How will we access the office?”

Charley placed her forefinger above his. “There.”

“The ventilation system.”

“The overhead shafts are eighteen by eighteen inches.” Charley pinned his eyes. “I'll fit.”

“You intend to go through the ductwork?”

“There's a ceiling intake vent in the office.”

“You’ll shimmy through the vent, drop into the office, grab the data and return.”

“Correct.” Charley indicated the space beside the office. “We have to have this specific room. There are two ventilations systems. Twenty years ago, this building went under major renovation. The management company sold it and the new owners converted it to an office building, which included a branch bank, into the swingers’ club.”

“Explains the wall safe.”

She nodded. “PR Ten used to be the branch manager's office. The bank had its own ventilation system due to security concerns.”

“How do you know the room next to the club manager’s office is available?”

“It's a PR room.”

“Which is?”

Charley tapped her finger on the key in the lower left hand corner of the blueprint. “PR stands for Play Room. They are leased to members for… activities or overnight lodging.”

“So we must have PR Eight next door to PR Ten, which was the bank manager’s office and has a hardened safe.”

“Yes.”

“How will we accomplish the task?”

Charley dug in her pocket. “With this.”

“The infinity symbol Justin gave you.”

“But if you turn it upright, it's an eight.”

“And?”

“We'll need fake documentation, drivers, and marriage licenses, et cetera. This place requires members to be married, over twenty-one and no singles allowed.”

“I don't get it.”

“Sean, will ya marry me on August the eighth, eight years ago?” She grinned.

“Eight, eight, eight, and room number eight. How do you come up with this stuff?”

“I didn't. The room number is eight, and I remembered our conversation with Justin.”

“What will be the primary problem?”

“Security guard patterns and routes are unknown. The first concern is if they make scheduled rounds. Second, we don’t know if the office is manned around the clock or at certain times.”

“We're staying the night?”

“We may be there all weekend.”

“Why?”

“Security may not have routes. If they don’t, I’ll camp out in the vent system and go in when it's clear.”

“This is dangerous and tricky.”

“It is. I’ll enlist Ralph and Scott to design and develop a data extraction device.”

“Wi-Fi.”

“Yes, provided they have Wi-Fi. Bet they do as a perk for the members.”

“Who’s making the fake documents?”

“Ralph.”

“What else will we need?”

“A thumb drive which will store massive amounts of data. Otherwise, I'll need a data catcher, a small hard drive to grab information from the hard drive. There's no way to know what folder will contain the data, if at all. I'll need a pass code cracker that can intrude through every possible firewall. Scott Grae will handle it. If anyone can do it, he can.”

“We go as married and what else?”

“We'll use disguises.” She turned and faced him. “As much as I like your understated stubble, you need to grow your beard.”

“You like my facial hair?” Murphy rubbed his jaw.

“Yeah,” she said as her attention returned to the drawing. “I have tinted eye lenses. My suggestion, you go with brown. Your eyes are memorable.”

He grinned again. “I like this plan.”

Charley toyed with the front of his hair. “Not much we can do with your hair.”

“I can shave—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay,” he said with more smiles. “What about you?”

“I'll resemble a five dollar prostitute.” She sighed.

“It’s not possible for you to resemble a hooker.”

“I'll buy a cheap cocktail dress and heels from a bargain barn. I'll wear a long brunette wig, have my body spray-tanned, and use blue contacts.”

“You're gonna look like an oompa loompa.” He laughed.

“Yeah, I'll fit the part and be orange.” She turned around and grinned.

“I recommend you avoid the field office afterwards.”

“I can hear Doobie asking why I’ve changed color. My answer, don't ask. His reply, too late.”

“And, the lies begin.” He smiled.

“Something I haven’t mastered. I'll avoid going anywhere until after the tenth shower.”

“What should I wear?”

Charley turned around and studied him. “Hmm, a suit is out, too classy. My suggestion, tight jeans, let them ride on the hips, looks good on you. A snug t-shirt, since your upper body is muscled. Go with…” She studied him. “Red, will complement the brown eyes.”

“Want me to roll a cigarette pack in my sleeve?” He snickered.

She shook her finger at him. “You're enjoying this too much, James Dean.”

“What about shoes?”

“Uhm… cowboy boots. No. Biker boots.”

“I own a pair.”

“It’ll look good with the red shirt. No belt.”

“Why?”

“Jeans should ride the hips without a belt.”

“Why, Charley Faraday, do I detect you have an eye for sexy?”

Charley blushed. “Well, I know what looks good.”

“Are you trying to send me off into the arms of another woman?” He chuckled.

Charley’s grin faded. “No, I want us to look realistic.”

“You forgot one major detail.”

“What?”

He raised his left hand and tapped the back of his ring finger with his thumb. “Wedding rings.”

“I forgot.”

“I'll take care of them.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, my mom has tons of jewelry.”

“She doesn't wear her wedding rings?”

“Married thirty-three years, Mom has never removed her wedding band. Sometimes she’ll wear another with it.”

“Ah.”

“Which do you prefer, gold, silver, platinum, or tungsten?”

“Surprise me.” Charley dropped and shook her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“We don't want to call attention to ourselves. They have protocols if someone doesn’t adhere to their guidelines—”

“You expect me to believe they have rules?”

“Sean, they have security guards and bouncers at Sirens and Studs. Strict rules.”

“Oh, so now you’ll tell me how reputable they are?”

“Well, it's legal, it may not be moral, or ethical, but it's legal. They pay business and entertainment taxes.”

“How will we secure the room? We aren't members. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.” Murphy licked his lips and grinned.

Charley planted her fists on her hips and rolled her eyes. “No, but you're tasked to call about a free membership weekend. I'll write the scenario to make sure it happens the way we want.”

“Why me?”

“Men are more likely to engage in this activity than women. From what I’ve researched, the husband goads his wife into doing this so he can go outside the bonds of marriage without repercussions. Permission to cheat. Some married couples don’t care whom their spouse beds. They stay married, and they're happy.”

“I would never agree to share my wife. Even if the marriage is rocky, I would not do it.”

Charley tilted her head and studied him.

Murphy turned away. “When are we doing this?”

“I’m not sure. There’s still research to complete. Ralph has to manufacture the gadgets and Scott will develop the software.”

Murphy lowered his head and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I’m with you, Char. I’m with you.”

“Good. I trust you.”