The Dead Detective (23 page)

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

O
ne phone call from Harry
had set the scene for the investigation. A uniformed officer was posted at the top of the garage stairs leading to Bobby Joe’s apartment. Crime scene tape had been run in a wide circumference around the entire structure. And the housekeeper who had found the body was isolated in the rear of a patrol unit in the company of a female deputy. Harry also issued a direct order that no one be permitted inside the taped perimeter. This was met by repeated demands from the Reverend John Waldo that he be allowed to go inside and pray over his son. He was told he’d have to speak to the detective in charge.

When he arrived at the crime scene, Harry went straight to the cruiser that held the housekeeper, after sending Vicky and Jim to make sure the remainder of the scene was still secure.

The housekeeper was somewhere in her early fifties with graying hair, brown eyes, and a light brown complexion. Harry guessed she was Mexican, probably illegal—although he had no intention of pressing the point—and thoroughly shaken by what she had seen.

After telling him her name was Dolores Sanchez she stared at him with trembling lips and watery eyes. “He is dead?” she asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Sanchez, he is.” Harry saw a sense of warmth enter the woman’s eyes when he spoke to her with a tone of respect. The words also seemed to relax her. “Tell me why you went to Bobby Joe’s apartment and everything you saw when you went inside.”

She shook her head as if his words had brought back a horrific image, although Harry was certain the image of what she had seen had never left her, and would not for a very long time.

“I went because his father wanted to talk to him and he did not answer his telephone. His
padre
, he was getting very angry. He say, ‘Go get him,’ so I go.”

“And what happened then?”

“Well, I knock on the door, but nobody answer. Then I try the door, but it no open. But I have keys for cleaning,” she patted a pocket on her apron, “so I open the door but I no go inside. I can see him right from the doorway. Blood is everywhere, all over everything, and that horrible
diablo
mask is on his face.”

“Did you touch the mask?”

She shook her head. “No, I no go inside.”

“Then how did you know it was him?”

“He’s wearing the same clothes I wash and iron for him,” she said.

Harry nodded. It was a practical answer from a practical woman. “Did you see or hear anyone or anything unusual before you found the body?”

Dolores thought before giving her answer. “There was someone in the backyard maybe two hours before.”

“Did you see someone?”

She shook her head. “
El perro
, next door, he start barking. He always bark when there people in the backyard. I thought maybe the reverend go out to smoke a cigar. Dog always bark when he does. It always makes the reverend angry. But then I saw him inside. So I look, but nobody’s there.”

Harry thanked her and told her that he would send someone to see her shortly to take a formal written statement that she would have to sign. “It won’t be long. Then you can go home,” he said.

The woman looked relieved.

Jim and Vicky were waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs that led to Bobby Joe’s apartment. He led them up and told the uniform standing watch to allow no one else in except the forensic unit and the medical examiner.

When Harry swung open the door, the heavy coppery smell of blood assaulted their nostrils. Bobby Joe’s body lay on its back in the middle of the room, the devil mask covering his face. He was still wearing the same clothing Harry had seen him in just hours before. Otherwise nothing was as it had been. The room was literally bathed in blood, the walls, the furniture, the floor, all washed in an arterial spray. The body had bled out before the heart had stopped beating, and Harry was certain the autopsy would show that all but the smallest amount was drained from the corpse. Still standing in the doorway he could see one set of bloody footprints leading away from the body. The first officers at the scene had checked the room to make sure the killer was not still there, but had remained far away from the body. The housekeeper, Mrs. Sanchez, said she had never entered the apartment after seeing the body from the doorway. Harry opened his crime scene case, removed his camera, and photographed the blood-stained path leading away from the body so they’d be able to separate those footprints from any new ones that were made in the course of the investigation.

The trio slipped on shoe covers distributed from Harry’s case, then entered the room single file staying away from heavy blood splatter. The first thing Harry noticed were the stark similarities to Darlene Beckett’s murder: the deep wound in the throat; the cut made by someone so powerful it almost opened the neck to the spinal column; hands carefully, even prayerfully folded; the mask placed over the face and left untied.

Harry went immediately to the body, took two photographs in situ, and then carefully raised the mask from Bobby Joe’s face. He stared at the word
Fornicator
, carved into the forehead. He stood, took two more photographs with the mask removed; then knelt back down and stared into Bobby Joe’s bloodless face.

“I should have stayed outside and watched you,” he said softly.

“Did you say something, Harry?” Vicky asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing.” He glanced at his watch. “I was here three hours ago. I rattled him pretty good and I even thought about staying parked outside to see if he went to anyone, or anyone came to him. But I decided there were other things I had to do first. I requested some unit drive-bys. Either that didn’t happen, or they missed whoever killed him.”

“I’ll check it out,” Vicky said. She went back outside to check with the uniform at the door. The first unit at the scene would also have been doing any drive-bys.

Harry picked up Bobby Joe’s wrist, then reached out and manipulated his jaw with a latex-covered hand. Rigor had not begun, but given the heavy air-conditioning in the room the process could have been delayed. He reached inside his shirt and felt under his arm. It was still warm to the touch, indicating he had been dead for less than three hours.

“I should have stayed and watched,” he said to no one in particular.

“Whoever killed him was probably outside watching
you
, waiting for you to leave,” Jim said.

The words startled Harry. He had forgotten anyone else was still in the room. But the point was well taken, and he wondered if Bobby Joe’s killer was the same person who had searched his home and pistol whipped Jeanie. Maybe you were looking in the right direction but at the wrong person, he told himself.

Jim’s words interrupted him again. “If you don’t need me here I’d like to go and check where Benevuto was when this murder went down. Superficially, at least, it looks like the same killer who did Darlene, and if Nick has an alibi for the last three hours that kind of lets him off the hook.”

Harry looked back at Jim and nodded. “That’s good thinking, and its fine with me if want to check it out, but touch base with Vicky first and make sure she doesn’t need you. She worked Darlene’s crime scene, along with that cowboy who got himself killed, so I want her to stay and work this one too. She’s liable to spot any similarities that I miss.”

“I’ll tell her,” Jim said.

Harry turned his attention back to the body. He studied the hands. They were covered in dried blood, indicating that Bobby Joe had used them in a vain attempt to staunch the flow from his throat, but otherwise there were no signs indicating a struggle. That told Harry that Bobby Joe knew the man well enough to let him get in close, and that the killer had not only been powerful, but also quick. He had moved in and had gotten behind Bobby Joe before the young minister realized what was happening. Military training? Justin Clearby leapt to mind. The first associate minister had told Harry he joined the church after a lengthy career as a Marine. And there could be others as well. He’d have to begin checking military records for everyone affiliated with the church.

He studied the wound. Like Darlene’s it appeared to have been administered in a right-to-left motion, which, if Bobby Joe had been taken from behind—which is the only way such force could have been applied—would indicate that the killer used his left hand.

“How does this person get so close to people before he kills them?” Harry asked aloud. “Does he just inspire so much fear that his victims are afraid to move? Or is he that fast, that nimble?”

He looked into Bobby Joe’s eyes. They had not become milky and clouded yet. There was still fear in them, Harry thought. The same fear he had seen when Bobby Joe had opened the door to him that afternoon—a fear that disappeared when the minister realized it was not the person he had been expecting.

“Who was that? Who were you waiting for?” Harry stared down at the corpse, almost as if he expected Bobby Joe to return to life and answer him.

The door to the apartment opened and Vicky came in. “The same unit that was called to the crime scene had your earlier request for a drive-by. Unfortunately, there was a traffic accident on McMullen-Booth and the drive-by never happened.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I should have stayed and watched him. He was all unwound. I could feel it in my gut. He was either going to rabbit, or reach out for somebody. He even told me that what I was pressing him to do could get him killed. And he wasn’t running a game on me. Whoever he was talking about scared the living hell out of him.”

“What were you pressing him to give up?” Vicky asked.

“The name of anybody else he knew who was watching Darlene, who was trying to get something on her that would violate her probation.”

“So you still think it was somebody in the church who did this.” Vicky’s voice held all the incredulity she felt.

Harry just looked at her and then turned his attention back to the body.

“Why won’t you even consider Benevuto?” she demanded. “Is it because he’s a brother cop?”

Harry kept his eyes on the body. “I wouldn’t care if he was the man in the moon,” he said. “Nick just doesn’t look good for this kind of killing.”

“Why not, why doesn’t he look good for it?” She spoke the last four words with an edge, mocking the idea.

Harry pivoted slowly to face her. He inclined his head toward the body. “Look at him. Look at the way he was killed; the way the body was mutilated. Then think back to Darlene’s body. This is the work of a religious head case, and that’s not Nick Benevuto. You were in his apartment. There wasn’t one iota of religion in it. Whoever killed Darlene thought she was evil—not a sick woman, not a deviant—but evil. Hell, Nick wouldn’t think twice about a woman spreading her legs for anyone—even a kid. He might think it was stupid, and he’d definitely think
she
was stupid to do it the way she did, as an open invitation to get caught. But he wouldn’t be declaring it evil and be so outraged that he’d carve that message in her forehead.” He swung a hand toward Bobby Joe’s face. “And do you think Nick Benevuto is so down on fornication that he’d cut up a body like this?” Harry shook his head and glared up at her. “He’d brand anybody who
wasn’t
a fornicator as an asshole.”

“Did you ever consider that he’s just trying to throw us off? He’s a good investigator. He knows how a good investigator thinks. He knows how you think, Harry.”

“Okay, let’s say I give you all that. Let’s look at the choice of weapon. Our killer used a knife, and a fairly good-sized one. Why? Was it because this was some kind of religious sacrifice? I don’t know. But I do know that Nick would not have chosen slicing somebody’s throat as the best way to kill them. He might use a knife, but he would have used it with a few wellplaced stabs to the heart. He wouldn’t want to bathe the room in blood. Nobody who’s ever worked homicide would want a crime scene like this. Not if he had to walk out of it. It’s too damn hard not to leave evidence behind, or take evidence away with you.”

“People do stupid things when they’re in a jealous rage.”

“These weren’t impulsive acts. These murders were well planned. Remember, Darlene’s body was moved, and it was moved for a reason that we haven’t figured out yet. But whatever it was, it was worth the risk of moving her. And in both murders the killer came prepared to deliver a message.”

“Prepared how? He had the knife with him?”

“He brought the masks with him too.”

“I don’t buy it, Harry. I just don’t buy it. I think it’s all part of his game to throw us off. Just like he altered the computer records so we wouldn’t be able to trace his department car. He was involved with Darlene. He fell for her, and he fell for her hard. But she wanted to bounce from bed to bed. She needed to know that she was wanted by a lot of men; it’s the only thing that satisfied her. God, she even needed to know that young boys wanted her. And Nick couldn’t stand that. He wanted her for himself. Hell, Harry, you saw her. A man couldn’t ask for a more beautiful, more desirable woman. And Nick Benevuto didn’t want to share that with anybody. Period, end of story; motive and opportunity all wrapped up in a neat little package. And to top it off, the best cover in the world. He’s a cop. And better yet, a detective who just might get to investigate the case. And that, my friend, is why Darlene’s body was moved. To make sure the case stayed in our jurisdiction. If her body was found in Tarpon Springs, the case might have been snatched up by Tarpon P.D.”

Harry swiveled back to the body. “Those are all excellent points. And you’ve got a very dirty crime scene here and no reason for Nick Benevuto to ever have been in this room. So let’s work the room and then you can see if anything we find here ties him to the crime scene.”

Vicky’s jaw tightened. “And if we don’t find anything, what does it prove? Just that he’s as smart a cop as I think he is.”

Harry loved the woman’s tenacity. He smiled up at her. “Lady, you’re like a dog with a bone. But the bottom line is this: we’ve got to put the killer at the scene of the crime. If we can’t do that, we’ve got a lot of evidence and no one to tie it to.”