Burdened By Guilt Page 5

  “Anything else?”

  “You mean are there any notes hidden away in his clothing?” He smiled.

  Mike looked at him and shook his head. “Freakin’ grapevine. Who told you about that?”

  “Santa.”

  “Listen Greg this is serious. I can’t have—“

  “Rest your sphincter.” Greg waved his hand. “I haven’t seen anything obvious at this point but I’ll let you know if I find anything during the autopsy.”

  “Fair enough. And Greg—”

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  “If you find anything keep it between us?”

  “Lips. Sealed.” Greg gave him the twist-tie motion over his lips and refocused his attention.

  “Thanks and let me know when you start digging in. I want to be there.”

  “We’re on our way as soon as you guys are done.”

  “You mean I get first dibs?” Mike asked surprised a fresh body would make it straight to the autopsy table.

  “It’s been a slow week.”

  Mike half-smiled and looked around for his partner now glued to Jill’s side. Kevin’s waving arms and nonstop lip movement only proved his incessant questioning was more manic than person or subject specific.

  Mike whistled at Kevin and waved him over.

  Kevin turned, waved and bolted over to him like a puppy summoned by his new master. Mike couldn’t help but respect his enthusiasm. He was fearless in his pursuits but this job was dangerous and Mike worried it might be a painful lesson to learn.

  “Jill taking good care of you?” Mike asked nonchalantly.

  “Yeah but I’m not sure why I’m following her around,” Kevin said his tone breathy and peevish. “I’m not interested in being a crime scene investigator. I’m a detective. I’m either following her around or stuck talking to other cops. What’s the deal?”

  “You’re right kid. I’ve been pawning you off for too long. Remember, I haven’t had a partner in a while so it just takes some getting used to. Hey, the doc’s going to take the body to the morgue and start the autopsy. Ever seen one live?”

  Kevin paled as his hand drifted to his stomach. “I’ve seen a dead body being cut open in school but it was a cadaver.”

  Mike smiled at the idea of the kid experiencing his first autopsy but felt a perverse disappointed since most of the blood was left at the crime scene. He would enjoy it regardless.

  “Well, unless you have some unfinished business here let’s get going.”

  “Hey Mike,” Jill said as she walked over.

  Mike nodded.

  “Looks staged,” she said indifferently.

  “Yeah, Greg was thinking the same thing,” Mike replied as uninterested in her commentary as he was in Greg’s.

  “How can you tell?” Kevin asked as he looked back over at the scene.

  “The blood. It’s been thrown around the body. See the edges?” She pointed Kevin in the direction to which she was referring. “See how the patch makes an arc? If he was actually stabbed here there would be more of a spray or spatter pattern.”

  Kevin listened like a good student.

  “Anything else?” Mike asked.

  “Nothing yet but I have high hopes,” she smiled.

  Mike cocked his head. He knew she loved her job but her enthusiasm at the details tinged of more than just professional curiosity. She was practically salivating at the idea of a serial killing. He cut her some slack when he realized he was hoping for that as well. Of course, his enthusiasm was for professional reasons; he could only hope hers was as well.

  Chapter 10

  “Do you think these two cases are related?” Kevin asked as he stared out the side window.

  “There’s no reason to start making assumptions about either murder at this point,” Mike said. He felt compelled to explain himself given the palpable air of desperation emanating from his passenger but decided against it knowing it wouldn’t be the end of it.

  Kevin’s brow scrunched into deep furrows as if trying to solve a calculus problem in his head. “What do you think?” He asked confirming Mike’s suspicion.

  “I have no idea.”

  Kevin huffed. “You have no idea or you just don’t want to share them with me?” He folded his arms like a spoiled child and turned.

  Mike took a deep breath. “I really have no idea and you shouldn’t start making guesses about them either. At least until you have enough evidence to support it. Most of the time you won’t have a direct tie to everything but when you’re this early on in a case it’s usually best to wait until you get more facts before you start making assumption.”

  Kevin arched an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. Instead he turned and faced the side window. Leaning his shoulder into the window he picked at the sticker in the corner of the glass.

  Familiar with the physical signs of an adult pout Mike shook his head and sighed. “Look, I know you’re eager and that’s a good thing. Just take it from me it’s better to get as many fact as possible first before you start creating the situation in your head. I’m not holding out on you kid. It wouldn’t do me any good anyway.”

  “Kevin,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  “My name is Kevin. Not kid.” The residual tinges of hurt feelings lingered in his tone.

  Mike looked over at him and then back to the road. “Right…Kevin.” The name tasted strange to him like biting into a lemon when you’re expecting an orange.

  Kevin turned to him and opened his mouth then quickly closed it. Instead he turned back to the sticker and resumed picking as he pressed his forehead firmly against the window.

  Grateful for the silence, Mike drove the path to the city morgue trying to avoid the potentially false hope of a connection between the murders but it was no use. He wanted a link. Everyone wanted a link. But he must be the voice of reason keeping them focused on the facts.

  “Well, I’m thinking these two murders are related,” Kevin blurted.

  Mike rolled his eyes. “Because?”

  “I dunno. Just a gut feeling.” He sat up and faced Mike. “You’re the one who said this job was more than just books. I have instincts too you know. I have an opinion and I have a right to voice my opinion.”

  Typical, Mike thought. The creation of social networking, blogging and micro-blogging gave people a false sense of importance as if their every thought was spun gold. Kevin, like the rest of his shortsighted generation, never thought about the consequences of their words just that they needed to be heard.

  “Well, don’t be so sure about your gut kid. Sometimes it’s just gas.” He may not fault Kevin for his displaced sense of entitlement but he didn’t have to encourage it.

  Again Kevin opened his mouth to say something and again he stopped. He sat back in his seat but instead of reinstituting his pout and picking routine he stared out the front window and played with the muted point of his tie.

  Mike half-smiled. If he couldn’t get rid of the kid at least he would have some fun with him. Keeping him off his well-honed game would be easy; keeping him quiet about it wasn’t.

  “Are you ready for this kid?” Mike warned as they got out of the car. “It can be pretty brutal if you’re not prepared.”

  “I can handle it,” Kevin defended.

  “Suit yourself,” Mike shrugged and headed toward the door.

  He walked through the double doors of the autopsy room immediately hit with the ambient smell of decomposition and sterilization. Unaffected Mike nodded his head to Greg’s greeting while Kevin lingered, holding open the door as he transitioned into the artificially filtered air.

  “Well this should excite you,” Greg said, his words muted by his mask. “You were right. Either it’s the same guy or you have a copycat who knows more than pretty much anyone else including those of us in the room.”

  “Can you be more specific?” Mike asked.

  “Lookee what I found.” Greg held up a rolled up note with his forceps.

  Mike walked ov
er and patted his jacket pockets only to have Kevin push a wad of latex gloves into his hands. Mike looked at him, paused then took the gloves. There was no eye contact between them as the body flayed open in front of them kept Kevin’s eyes fixed.

  “Where’d you find it?” Mike asked, putting on the gloves.

  “Right pants’ pocket. Just like the other one.”

  “I’m sure that’s significant,” Mike said to himself.

  It was what he wanted and dreaded. The upside was a fact driven connection assisting their search for who was responsible. The downside was intent. Someone had a very well developed plan and the discipline and patience to execute. The thought made him anxious. The gun had gone off and they were still standing at the starting line.

  He rolled out the small card and read:

  “Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead;

  Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.”

  “Shakespeare,” Kevin said at Mike’s bicep.

  “What?” Mike asked.

  “Shakespeare. Julius Caesar,” he responded looking a bit incredulous and even more self-conscious as both Mike and Greg stared at him.

  “Are you a cop or an English teacher?” Mike asked with a slight smile.

  “Well, I’m a cop, of course,” Kevin responded as if it was a legitimate question. His unabashed revelation about the source of the note apparently never occurred to him to be something for which he should feel shame or apprehension about sharing.

  “Okay, Shakespeare. Explain,” Mike stated.

  Kevin looked confused. “Haven’t you ever read Julius Caesar?”

  “Yeah, maybe twenty years ago,” Mike answered. “Don’t be so general. What do the lines mean?”

  “Oh, well, all I remember is he was stabbed to death by his men. He wanted to be king or something along those lines and his men didn’t want that so they killed him. Happy?”

  “Hey, maybe your new doctor friend can fill you in on the details,” Greg teased. “Is she hot?”

  “What? Who?” Mike stuttered, his focus still on Kevin’s jutting chin and associated attitude. “What are you talking about Greg?”

  “Your college professor.”

  “Oh, yeah right. She’s not my college professor.”

  “Well?” Greg prodded.

  “Well what?”

  “Is she hot or what?”

  “Listen perv, stick to dead bodies and leave the living to me.”

  “I take that as a yes.” Greg’s eyes smiled, his look and demeanor incongruous to the putrefying organ in his hand.

  Mike ignored him.

  “There’s more,” Greg sang.

  Mike hesitated unsure which direction Greg would take the conversation. He prayed his focus would return to the dead body. “What more?”

  “Remember how I told you he had been stabbed with multiple blades?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it looks like there were eight.”

  “Yeah!” Kevin yelled startling the other two men.

  Mike turned and glared at him.

  “Of course it would be eight,” Kevin shrunk back as if Mike expanded.

  “Why ‘of course’? Lemme’ guess—Shakespeare right?”

  “Exactly. Caesar was stabbed to death by eight of his men. I guess it would make sense that there were eight different knives used to stab this guy.” Kevin’s smile showed an immense satisfaction.

  Mike and Greg both looked at him with anticipation.

  “And…and,” Kevin struggled with the additional information both men’s expressions required. “And his final words were ‘Et tu, Brute’ as Brutus was the last one to stab him and he was his friend and Caesar was stunned he would be one of the perpetrators and he really couldn’t believe this was happening to him.” He stopped abruptly.

  “Okay, okay. So what does Shakespeare have to do with Edgar Allen Poe?” Mike asked.

  Kevin stood, his eyes shifted back and forth between Mike and Greg. Eagerness replaced his earlier expression of satisfaction now that he had their undivided attention. “Well, I think it has to do with the implication of death and trust to those we surround ourselves with.”

  Mike squinted.

  Kevin rubbed his chin as if in deep contemplation before continuing. “Both authors really focused on the people who are closest to them and how you can’t trust people even people you think you can trust because if you aren’t careful they can kill you and since they are so close to you, you wouldn’t necessarily see it coming which, of course, is the easiest way to kill someone.”

  His pace increased. “Plus…plus there’s the fact of how they chose to kill each of the different individuals which are obvious indicators of the mental states of the perpetrators when they’re thinking about the best way to get rid of someone and—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa kid,” Mike waved his hands to shut him up as Greg laughed. “It’s okay to say you have no idea what the connection is. Really. In fact, it’s better to just say ‘I have no idea’ than go on and on with that bullshit.” Even he wasn’t that much of a sadomasochist to let him continue no matter how much fun he derived from watching him squirm.

  Kevin took a step back and ran his hand through his hair. The stubborn blond ringlet lifted then fell back into place over his eyebrow.

  “Okay then,” Mike clapped his latex covered hands together. “I guess we should find out if there’s a connection from someone a little more informed. This is a good start but we had better leave the analysis to someone a bit more knowledgeable.”

  He looked at Kevin his expression teasing but kind. “We are detectives after all so let’s start detecting.” Mike put his right hand on Kevin’s shoulder and moved with him toward the door. “Okay kid, I guess you’ve got some homework to do.”

  “Keep me posted Greg,” he threw over his shoulder as the two walked out of the room.

  “Roger that,” he said.

  “Now,” Mike leaned into Kevin’s ear, both hands on his shoulders. “Let’s see just how smart you really are.”

  Chapter 11

  The pressure to track down their murderer before he killed again weighed heavily on Mike. As much as he hated a second murder it was done. All he could do now was hope it would help solve the first. He did not, however, want there to be a third. Given the specificity of the acts and the patience they required, he worried he may be powerless to stop it.

  A feeling with which he was very familiar.

  He dropped Kevin off without a word and headed back to the station. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

  “Hello, Doctor Kelly, this is Detective Anderson. I have something else I’d like to discuss with you so if you could, can you give me a call so I can set up an appointment to come and see you? It’s important. You have my number. Thanks.”

  He made sure to ask for an appointment knowing it would satisfy her need for propriety. He just hoped she didn’t take too long to respond. She all but predicted a second body and with it came the inevitable expectations. Hopefully that was enough for her to make connections he could never make on his own.

  When he got back to his desk he reviewed Greg’s final report on the first victim. It was as he expected. C.O.D was exsanguination due to transaction of the carotid. Outside of that nothing stood out as unusual. At least unusual enough to lead him down the right path.

  “Shit,” he exclaimed, hoping for additional leverage.

  His phone rang.

  “Anderson,” he said.

  “Detective Anderson. This is Doctor Kelly returning your call.”

  “Yeah, great. Hey, thanks for calling back so quickly.” Yeah? Hey? He shook his head.

  “Of course.”

  “Well, I was hoping we could get together and talk. There’s been another murder and another note. Apparently this time it’s from William Shakespeare.”

  “Was it a play?”

  “Yeah, Julius Caesar.”

  “What did the note say?”

  He cra
dled the phone between his head and shoulder and moved papers around looking for his copy of the note. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he searched feeling her irritation at his lack of readiness emanating through the phone.

  “Found it,” he exclaimed as he held up the paper. His boyish grin of satisfaction lost to the empty room. “It says, Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is dead! Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets.”

  She didn’t respond.

  He waited.

  She commented. “That was right after the assassination. Interesting. I guess this means you probably have a serial killer on your hands. Very well. I will be in my office again this evening. You are welcome to come by at seven if that is amenable to you.”

  “Seven is fine. I’ll be there. And thanks.”

  “Please try to be on time Detective Anderson.”

  “Yeah, yes, absolutely, no doubt. I’ll be on time.” He saluted no one.

  “Good-bye Detective,” she said.

  “Good-bye Doc,” was all he trusted himself to say at that point and even that was probably not the best way to end the conversation. He figured she probably didn’t appreciate him calling her “Doc”.

  He hung up the phone, leaned back in his chair and put both hands over his face. The pangs of remembrance hit him again and he closed his eyes for a brief moment until they passed. It wasn’t a good idea to deal with her considering the situation but he didn’t want to start all over with someone new. He could handle it. He just needed to remain focused on the case.

  He questioned the level of her involvement. Her safety wasn’t his specific concern but leveraging a civilian on something that could turn into a media nightmare probably wasn’t such a good idea. He made a mental note to talk to her about discretion. He had a feeling that conversation would prove more difficult than starting a gas powered lawn mower with no arms especially given his proven inability to communicate like an adult in her presence.