The Cruelest Cut (21 page)

When his phone rang at six o'clock that morning Jack was wide awake and sitting on his porch watching the last boats of fishermen as they sculled along the banks. It was too late in the year to catch anything except maybe a carp or a garfish, neither one edible. He took his empty coffee mug and went inside.

“Are you dressed?” Liddell asked when Jack lifted the receiver.

“Pervert,” Jack responded in a dead serious tone.

“What color are your panties?” Liddell said in a raspy voice, accompanied with heavy breathing.

“Does Marcie know this side of you, partner?” Jack said. “What's going on?”

“Maddy got another note. She threatened to burn it if I didn't bring you along. I haven't called the chief yet, in case you're wondering.”

Liddell picked him up at his cabin a few minutes later.

 

The Channel Six television station was housed in a squat brick building with a flat roof that sat on top of a hill surrounded by trees. The structure itself was utilitarian and hideous, with the only advantage being that it couldn't be seen by the public from any of the main roads. The upper parking lots commanded a 360-degree view. Unfortunately the views south and east were of the roofs of an abandoned factory, and the view to the west took in Crescent Hill Cemetery. The view to the north was the top of trees for as far as you could see.

The detectives were met by an excited Maddy Brooks when they pulled in to the Channel Six parking lot. They had not even rolled to a stop when she approached their car.

“Has there been another murder?” she asked, breathlessly.

Liddell and Jack looked at each other.

“Aw, shit,” Liddell said, and they got out of the car.

The sun was blocked by black clouds, and to the west Jack could see lightning and could smell the approaching rain. They walked with Maddy to her office. Jack's mood was as dark and angry as the weather as he struggled to control his words.

“So, you got a note from the killer last night and you called the chief of police this morning,” Jack said.

Maddy caught the sarcasm in his voice and stopped just outside the doors of the television station. “Let's get something straight, Detective Murphy. These notes are being sent to me. Me personally. I am under no obligation to share them with the police.”

Liddell opened the door for them just as the rain started coming straight down in buckets. They hurried in to the foyer.

“You're a paragon of virtue, Maddy. Now can we please see the note?” Jack asked politely.

“You guys better not even think about trying to cut me out of this story,” she said, her back to the men as they entered her office.

Jack kept his anger in check. All that mattered was getting the note. He knew if the television station wanted to, they could tie the note up for hours while the police department fought a legal battle over the “right” to see a piece of evidence in a murder case.

He took a little comfort in the fact that they now had a suspect, and that Maddy didn't know about it yet. The forensic boys had come up with a match on a partial fingerprint from a piece of broken mirror. The tech said it was Eddie Solazzo, but to swear to it in court they needed at least six points of comparison and they only had five. It was good enough for Jack, but it still didn't put Eddie at any of the murders because they had no fingerprints in those cases. Crime Scene had also advised that they found a beer can in the room at the Arrowhead and they were rushing a DNA test.

How Maddy had not gotten wind of this development was a surprise to Jack, but he was sure, with all the leaks in the department, she would find all of it out before the day was over.

As they gathered around Maddy's desk, Jack noticed that she had already taken the note from the envelope, no doubt to Xerox, photograph, and get as many fingerprints on it as possible. She saw the disdainful look and said, “Don't worry, I didn't handle anything.”

Liddell asked, “Was this one left at the front door again?”

“Lois Thatcher found it lying on the ground beside the front doors when she was leaving the building last night,” Maddy said, looking irritated. “I guess she thinks because she's the mayor's mother that she can do as she pleases. Anyway, I had already gone for the day, so she stuck it on my desk and told me about it this morning.” She looked thoughtful. “Probably would have been about six o'clock last night.” She used the eraser end of a pencil to push the note across the desk where Liddell and Jack could read it.

As she said, the envelope was addressed to her. Printed in the familiar red crayon were the words:

 

Bring Murphy back

Or I will kill one

Every day

Little Boy Blue is the First.

 

Liddell gave Jack a concerned look. “He wants you back on the case?”

“You've got to let me interview you,” Maddy said, and both men looked at her in disbelief.

“I'm suspended, Maddy. I'm not even supposed to be here,” Jack said patiently.

Maddy smiled smarmily. “I bet I can get you back on the job now,” she said.

“I don't need your help,” Jack said, angrily. “The last time I dealt with you I got suspended.”

“You can't blame that on me, Jack Murphy,” she said. “You've never respected your superiors, and it's that nasty temper of yours that gets you in trouble.”

Jack wanted to come back with something hateful, but she was right. He didn't respect his “superiors” when it came to some limelight-seeking ignoramuses like Double Dick.

Liddell stepped quickly in to defuse the argument. “Maddy, I can't let you interview Jack, but I have something else I can give you if you don't name your source.”

Maddy snapped her attention solely on Blanchard now. Her movement was almost snakelike. “What is it?”

Liddell looked around, almost theatrically, then leaned in close to Maddy and said softly, “Forensics think the crayon on all of the notes is from the same batch of crayons.”

Jack hadn't learned this information yet, but he was amused watching the look on Maddy's face while she assimilated the new piece of information. It was like she was chewing Liddell's words, tasting them, deciding what to do with his statement. Would she swallow it, or spit it in his face? Then her brow narrowed, and she said angrily, “That's it! That's all I get for this note?”

Liddell plucked the note and envelope from her hands and turned toward the door. “Think of it. Mother Goose's red crayon matched.” She was thinking about it. “I'd better get this one analyzed as well,” he said over his shoulder.

While Maddy stood with her mouth hanging open, Jack smiled and shrugged and then followed his partner out.

Chief Richard Dick used his master keys to let himself into the Civic Center hallway. The Civic Center wouldn't open for another hour or so, but the mayor was already in and had called for him. Dick stepped off the elevator on the third floor of the Civic Center and walked to one of the mirrored columns to straighten his tie and check his uniform. Everything about him was perfect. He smiled.

It had been over a week since the last killing, and the news media frenzy was winding down. All in all, it had been perfect timing for him. The murders, the publicity, his appointment as chief of police, and the murders had stopped. The media had even played with the angle that it was Dick's reputation as a “no-nonsense copper” that made the killer stop. And best of all, he'd finally humiliated Jack Murphy in a very public fashion. He knew it was Murphy who had started the nasty gossip about him, calling him Double Dick and such.

Dick pulled down the brim of his eight-point police cap and checked his teeth in the mirror.
Things will be different from now on,
he thought, and walked down the corridor to the mayor's office.

“Good morning, Alice” Chief Dick said, giving the mayor's secretary a sincere smile. “You're here early.”

She looked up sharply at being addressed so casually. She didn't like it when visitors called her by her first name, and she definitely didn't like the new chief of police. She would have to teach him some manners, she thought.

“Do you have an appointment with the mayor?” she asked, knowing full well that the chief had been summoned by the mayor himself.
Doesn't hurt to put him in his place
, she thought, and was pleased by the grim look that crossed Dick's features.

“I was called,” Chief Dick said flatly, and thought,
Controlling bitch.

She was about to tell him to have a seat while she checked with the mayor, but the door to the mayor's office opened and Thatcher Hensley poked his head out. “Get in here. We've got a little problem,” he said to Dick and disappeared, leaving the door open.

Dick entered the mayor's office and took a seat across the desk from Hensley. “You said it was urgent,” he said to the mayor.

Hensley pushed a white piece of paper that was stapled to an envelope. “This was left in the Civic Center suggestion box,” he said, without further explanation.

Dick reached for the paper, imagining that one of Evansville's citizens had written some hate mail, or some other nonsense. Why the mayor would bother him with these frivolous matters, he couldn't imagine. But he was the chief now. Didn't hurt to brownnose a little.

As Dick read the letter, his face turned pasty white.

 

While Jack and Liddell were talking to Maddy Brooks, a retired high school teacher, a recent widower, was taking his morning exercise along the riverfront esplanade. The levee system for that stretch of the Ohio River started behind the downtown museum and ran east for eleven miles or so, ending at Angel Mounds State Park in Warrick County. Lenny Clegg had made the walk his morning routine when the weather was nice. In cold weather, or too warm weather, he went to Eastland Mall and walked inside with the other retirees. But he much preferred the scenery and solitude of the walk along the levee.

He climbed the grassy rise behind the museum and looked around. To the east and west the Ohio River wound like a ribbon across the landscape. The old steam engine and boxcar sat in a historically correct train station behind the museum, and a bike path ran westward toward the Blue Star Casino.

In an effort to expand the art culture of the community, the City of Evansville Arts Commission had started displaying various themes of statues along brick-lined Main Street and continuing down the riverfront walkway to the museum. A few months ago, the sculptures—created and painted by local schoolchildren—were race cars. They were actually very good, and after a few months, the statues were auctioned, and the money used to repeat the process. This month, the creations were butterflies. Each one stood about four feet high and was painted in every hue of the rainbow.

Lenny was admiring one of these when he noticed the wings of this particular statue had been draped with what looked like red ropes and someone had splashed blue paint on and around the statue. He pulled out his cell phone to report the vandalism to the police when he noticed a bloody leg bent around the base of the statue.

 

Chief Dick had recovered sufficiently enough to speak by the time he put the note back on the desktop.

“What are you going to do about this, Chief Dick?” the mayor demanded.

That the mayor had referred to him by his official title wasn't lost on him.
What have I gotten myself into?
he worried. But there was only one thing to say, wasn't there?

“I'll look into it, Mayor,” Chief Dick said, sounding more confident than he felt.

Hensley leaned forward in his chair, both hands flat on top of the desk. “You'll look into it?” He leaned farther forward, and spittle was gathering at the corners of his mouth. “You'll look into it!” He got up and stood in front of the bank of glass windows that looked out over Main Street, his arms straight at his sides, his fists clinching and relaxing.

“I'm doing everything I can, Thatcher,” Dick said, and cringed at the apologetic tone in his own voice.

Hensley spun around, facing the chief. “You'll do better than that!” Hensley said through clenched teeth. “You'll catch this bastard, or you'll find another job.” With that decree, Hensley turned back to the windows and was quiet.

Dick kept his eyes cast down. He'd seen these tantrums before and knew that it was best to let the mayor blow off steam.

In a few moments Hensley turned around and went back to his seat. “Well,” he said, “we'd better decide how we're going to handle this demand.”

“Before we do anything, perhaps I should have my people verify the note is authentic,” Dick suggested.

“What?” Hensley said, “You think it might be from someone besides the killer?”

“Mayor, we suspended Detective Murphy a week ago. There have been no murders since then. Why would this guy be demanding Murphy's return now?”

Hensley stood up and paced in front of the desk. “Are you suggesting that Detective Murphy wrote the note himself, Chief Dick?”

That's exactly what Dick believed, but he couldn't afford to be wrong. He couldn't afford another murder to prove the point. “I'm merely suggesting that we take a few hours to have this note checked out by my forensic people. Then we can decide.”

Hensley stood in front of the chief, looking down into his face keenly. “You'd better do something quick, Richard. He's promised to kill one child for each day we keep Murphy off the job. If the killer strikes again and the public finds out that we sat on this note, it will mean the end of both of us.”

Dick understood completely. But he couldn't put Murphy back on the job. Better to be fired than let Murphy gloat over him. “I'll oversee the processing of the note myself, Mayor,” Chief Dick promised.

“Get Murphy back, Dick,” Hensley said flatly.