Rise of a Phoenix: Rise of a Phoenix (8 page)

She spun the whole thing round, revealing three long black strips, one on top of the other. Each strip had several vertical lines coming off at the top of the base lines: this was her timeline board for each of the victims.

“McCall, you may need another stripe. We got us another one.” The Captain had a worn tone in his voice, he was tired of not having a single clue or anything to work on. This guy was good, and the knowledge of it was getting to him.

McCall didn’t try and find Steel—in fact she didn’t want him around her; yes, fine, he had saved her from Jabba and his gang but something about him was wrong, something was not quite right. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but he made her nervous.

The detectives made their way to a dirty alleyway near the meatpacking district; the press was all over the area, reporters tripping over each other to get a glimpse or an interview. As she pushed forwards, microphones were thrust into her face as requests from the press for any information and comments such as ‘was this one connected to the other killings?’ She sighed with incredulity at how quickly the media people had got there.

Moving through the hordes of police she found herself with the ME, Tina, who was kneeling holding a clipboard looking over the remains of what appeared to have been a woman.

“Is it the same guy?” McCall asked her friend, afraid of the answer.

“Well, hi to you too!” Tina snapped at her without turning round.

“What? Oh sorry Tina, Hi” McCall quickly apologized, with a ‘naughty puppy’ look on her face. “But is it the same guy?”

“Well, our vic has had both arms removed and she has no blood present in her body, but until I get her back to the lab I can’t say for sure, although it has all the hallmarks of our boy, but till then...” Tina suddenly looked worried as she noticed something.

“Strange thing, is this fresh?”

McCall looked puzzled. “What do you mean, fresh?”

The M.E stood up and called for the waiting orderlies to take the body away. “The others were at least a couple of days old, but this was done recently and quickly.”

A chill went down McCall’s spine.

“You figure that he’s stepping it up?” Tina nodded.

McCall waited for CSU to do their sweep of the area, taking photos and searching for fibers and prints. Once they were finished, the female detective and her team went in. Tony stopped at the entrance and looked around.

“Where’s Steel?” he asked.

The others stopped and looked up and down the street to find no trace of the most recent addition to their team.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.” McCall’s look was stern, she didn’t have time to babysit: if Steel wanted to be there he would have made the effort.

“Screw him, that brother smells like trouble if you ask me,” Tooms’s voice bellowed. He didn’t give a damn about this John Steel, the case was his priority. The team made their way into the alleyway taking it inch by inch, searching for pieces to the puzzle.

Each of them had spent at least an hour scouring through drains, under boxes, in fact anywhere a clue might be. Tony was doing door-to-door interviews to try and find someone who may have seen anything unusual in the last few hours, but turned up nothing.

“God, sometimes I hate this city,” Tony grumbled. “I can’t believe nobody saw anything.”

“Hey, that’s New York, man, if it don’t concern nobody, no one is interested.” Tooms had had enough, they all had. The case was burning them out, and the sooner it was finished with the better, but McCall had a bad feeling about this one. This was trouble.

“OK,” she told them. “We can’t do any more here, so let’s head back to the station and pick it up from there.” The others nodded and they moved off.
It’s going to be a long night
, thought McCall, great, that was all she needed.

High above them a figure knelt on the edge of a rooftop, his gaze following them to their vehicles as they made their exit. He stood up and his coat took to the breeze like some mythical bird, his shape silhouetted by the moon that shone brightly creating a long shadow on the rooftop. A cloud crept across the sky, briefly blacking out the moon, causing everything to go dark. In those seconds he was gone, as if he’d been carried off by the darkness.

ELEVEN

The next morning at the station there was an air of panic as the news of yet another killing spread through the precinct, and it wouldn’t be long before the newspapers and TV stations had the grim information plastered all over the place, instilling panic throughout the city, a panic that the Captain was trying to avoid.

The team searched through missing persons records, and took calls from possible witnesses as well as doing their best to fend off the press.

McCall spied Steel heading for her as he got out of the elevator. She braced herself for the inevitable question of

‘Why did you not tell me about the latest death?’. But if he wanted to be included, she reasoned, he had to be there all the time, not just when it suited him. He arrived at her desk and sat down without a word.

“OK,” she felt the urge to apologize.

“I’m sorry we didn’t come and find you, but when it all kicked off we had to leave quickly.” The speech was quick and speedy, as if what she had to say was too embarrassing to say slowly.

“No problem,” he said. “In your position I would have done the same, if I want to be included on this case I have to be here all the time, and not just when it suits me.”

She looked at him with a look of utter disbelief. Had he just read her mind? Confusion had knocked her off balance, as she stumbled through a quick briefing on what they had just found. He just smiled and handed her a coffee he had just bought from a coffee shop nearby.

“Thanks.” Shocked by his kind gesture, she took a sip of the coffee, and a burst of aromatic goodness flushed through her system.
Oh my God, that’s good
, she thought, but did not wish to let on.

“So what have you been up to—?” she stopped herself in mid-sentence, not wanting to go on.

“Do you really want to know or are you just saying that?” he asked.

“Not really.” Her eyes shot back to the paperwork as he smiled to himself.

“Well, you may want to know someone has just filed a missing person’s report which may fit your vic’s description.”

Her gaze shot up to his face. “Where? When?” He pointed to Tony, who was approaching quickly with a slip of paper.

“You won’t believe what I just got,” the other detective said smugly.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said, looking at Steel, who was busy sipping his cappuccino.

TWELVE

The Walters’ residence was a penthouse in a massive complex of old stone and large arched windows, a monument to bygone days. The view of Central Park was breathtaking through the large windows of the lounge area. All over the place, marble floors glistened with the touch of the midday sun. McCall looked in awe at the fine furniture everywhere, most of which was probably the same age as the building, if not older. A pretty girl who appeared to be in her late twenties had let them in; her maid’s uniform was a black-and-white all-in-one short dress, the lacy white collar fluffed up around her neck. Her long blonde hair was styled into a bun then crowned with a small white maid’s tiara.

“Mr Walters, the police are here to see you,” she said, as she ushered them into the large sitting area. Benjamin Walters was sitting on an old heavy-looking chesterfield armchair, its dark leather encrusted with shining brass studs.

“Please come in, sit down,” he said, rising from his own chair, his hands pointing to the long sofa of the same design. They all sat, and he waved at the girl, asking her to bring them some coffee.

“I’m Detective McCall and this is Detective Steel,” McCall began.

“We are here because you reported your wife missing.” Her concern was genuine, fuelled by the very real possibility that she could be the next victim.

“Yes, she left for a damned wives’ meeting in the Hamptons yesterday and has not been seen since,” Benjamin Walters muttered in a strained voice.

“I phoned the club to see if she could have stayed over but they said she left early.” He broke down, sobbing into his hand.

Ignoring him, Steel got up and walked to a marble mantelpiece which surrounded a spectacular fireplace, lifting up a silver-framed photograph that showed Mr Walters and the victim. Steel showed it to the female detective, and she nodded in response.

“Excuse me, sir, is this your wife?” The English officer said.

Walters looked confused at first at the question, then he realized why Steel had asked it.

“Oh my God, is she the latest victim of this killer that’s been in the papers? What will I do now? She was my whole life!”

The coffee had arrived and the girl placed it down onto the large coffee table between Walters and the officers. She carefully poured coffee into the antique bone-china cups. It was the kind of valuable chinaware that most people would keep in a glass cabinet, hardly something to be actually used. But what was money to this guy?

“We can’t be sure of anything, sir,” McCall said tactfully, “but we’d be grateful if you could come downtown and identify a body...”

He nodded, with his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry to ask, Mr Walters,” she said gently, “But where were you around the time your wife went missing?” This was the question she always hated to ask a loved one, but sometimes it hit the right chord.

Walters composed himself and picked up the cup and saucer from the dark wooden antique table.

“I was out at my club. I was there until midnight. We had a port tasting on that evening so our driver had to bring me back.” He sipped the steaming liquid.

“And which club would that be, sir?” She took her notebook out, ready to write down any new information.

“The Harvard club, it’s on West 44th.” His hands shook slightly.

“When did you see your wife last?”

“Around midday, just before she left for the club.”

“And when were you expecting her back” asked McCall, watching as Steel circled the room looking at photographs on the walls and shelves. She wondered if he was even paying attention to her questioning, or if he cared whether he was here or not.

“It’s hard to say, I never really expect her back when she has been to the club.” He placed the cup and saucer back onto the table. “You see, it depends what sort of day she has had.”

McCall looked puzzled and Steel turned slightly, clearly surprised at his response.

“What do you mean?” Steel exclaimed, turning back to look at a rather colourful Rembrandt painting on the wall.

“If she has had a good day she will stay until late, sometimes may have to stay over. And if she has had a bad day, well, she normally shops.” A lonely look fell upon his weary face. He was not particularly old, but it seemed as if something had worn him down, making his features careworn and weary.

“Did she drive herself or was she taken to the club?”

“No, she took her car; it’s a black Mercedes SLK.” His mind shifted, a faraway look came into his eyes, and then, with a start, he was back again.

“I bought it for her birthday last year and she goes everywhere in the damn thing.” Bitterness swept over his face, causing the wrinkles in his skin to crease further.

 “I will get you a copy of the registration and the other details,” he said, standing slowly. “Please wait here, I won’t be but a moment.”

He left the room to go across the long hallway. From what the two detectives could see, he entered a dimly lit room with some sort of maroon velvet wallpaper and heavy looking oak furnishings. Steel continued to look at the art and paintings that were dotted round the large luxurious area, which felt more as if it was part of a stately home than a lived-in home.

Walters returned holding a piece of paper in his hand, his suit shining in the sunlight as he headed towards them. “I hope this helps.” His words were almost sincere as he spoke them, but Steel picked up on something in his demeanour that suggested he was hiding something. McCall looked at the piece of heavy office paper the older man had handed her, and scanned the contents. The paper contained the licence plate and GPS number of the car. In addition, her cell phone number was amongst the main details on the list.

“Perfect, Mr Walters, thank you, this will really help.”

As McCall spoke Steel turned and gave her a look of disbelief. Was she really buttering him up? He knew that if the killer had been through this kind of trouble before, then the cell phone and car would probably be at the bottom of the Hudson. Unless he actually wanted the phone and car found, he was being too thorough.

“Just one thing, sir,” asked Steel as they were making for the door. “If something happens to your wife, what happens to her money?”

McCall’s face dropped in shock, not because Steel had asked such a question, but because he had thought of it, and she had not. And that stung. She flashed him a quick glance of annoyance, which merely seemed to amuse him.

“Sorry, but you do understand, Mr Walters, we have to ask certain questions for the report, it’s so we can eliminate you as a suspect.” Her words were sympathetic, which reassured the older man.

“Well, I suppose I do, hadn’t really thought about it.” His eyes glazed over but he said nothing.

“Well, if that will be all, detectives, I have arrangements to make.” He raised his arm as if to beckon them to the front door.

“There needs to be a formal identification, sir,” McCall said.

“Of course, but you’ve just seen her picture, so there’s little doubt, presumably?” he asked them.

“We still need you to come to identify her as soon as you can sir,” she replied.

He nodded, barely registering her words.

“We will do everything in our power to catch these people, I promise you.” McCall looked him in the eyes as she spoke, her face deadly serious. Steel thought it made her seem even more attractive.