Delusions With Murder: A Rilynne Evans Mystery (4 page)

The station house was buzzing with voices when she walked through the door.  It seemed that every officer in the precinct had been called in, and every other case had been pushed aside for the time being.  Rilynne pushed her way back towards the elevator and road it up to the homicide office on the third floor.  Detective Wilcome, looking grimmer than ever before, was standing at the head of the table in the conference room, waiting for the last few people to arrive.  Despite it being only four-thirty in the morning, everyone looked fully awake and as troubled as Detective Wilcome. 

“Just after three this morning, a woman called to report her neighbor’s door was wide open, and he appeared to not be home.  When officers arrived at the apartment building, they found this-” he held up an evidence bag containing a small black piece of paper “-tucked under the doorknocker.  Other than the door being left ajar, there are no signs of a struggle at the scene.  Our crime scene investigators are at the apartment now, but as of their last report, this scene appears to be clean like the others.”  He taped a photo to a new white board that had been brought into the room, and stared at it for a few minutes before talking again.  The victim appeared to be in his early twenties, with a fair complexion and brunette hair that reached his shoulders.  There was something about him that struck Rilynne as familiar, though she couldn’t place him.  “The victim’s name is Derek Hartley, he’s twenty three years old, divorced with no children, and a third year law student.  He was last seen leaving Lander’s Bar with his girlfriend at one thirty this morning.  We are working on tracking her down right now, but it would appear she wasn’t in the apartment at the time of abduction.  Based on the past victims, we have less than six hours before the right leg is removed.  And if the pattern holds, we have less than seven days to find him before he’s killed.” 

He plopped down in his chair and loosened his tie.  The only sound that could be heard in the packed room was the gentle squeak of the ceiling fan.  No one seemed to want to talk, or even move.  They were no closer today than they were twelve months ago at finding the Pirate Killer, and they all knew it. 

“Matthews, Evans, I want you to take the scene.  I want every moment of the victim’s life broken down.  See if he has anything in common with any of the other victims.  Our best hope of catching this bastard is to find out how he’s choosing them.  Here is the address,” he said while handing Rilynne a torn page from his notebook.

She stared at the paper without moving.  The only part of her that shifted at all was the expression on her face, which went from somber to stunned.

“Is there a problem Evans?” asked Detective Wilcome.  She looked up to find all eyes on her.

Rilynne started blankly at him for a moment before responding.  “This is my apartment building.  It’s the apartment directly above mine.”

T
he apartment had the same layout as Rilynne’s, though it was obvious it was a man’s apartment.  The entertainment center included every gaming system on the market, and the shelves were lined with movies and games.  The furniture was very basic, and there were no personal touches other than a few framed pictures of his family and a young woman who Rilynne recognized to be his girlfriend.

“It looks like he had just walked in,” Detective Matthews said, examining the room.  “His jacket was dropped by the door.  There are no other clothes on the floor that would suggest he was in a habit of leaving them strewn about.  There’s no obvious sign his girlfriend was with him.”

“I can sometimes hear him through the ceiling.  It carries anytime he gets a little loud.  Or I could hear him walking if he had dress shoes on.”  Rilynne was sitting at his desk in the corner, sifting through his files, looking for anything of use.

“Did you hear anything last night?  Did you hear voices, or a struggle?” Matthews asked.

“I heard him walk in around two-thirty, but that’s it.”

“How often did he have loud arguments?” Matthews had taken out his notebook and was jotting down her answers.

“I could hear him and his girlfriend occasionally, but it was never anything serious.  I never heard anything physical.  Just a verbal spat here and there.”

“Did you know anything about his personal life? Anyone you have seen him with or any behaviors you’ve noticed?”

“I only saw him a few times in passing.  I never saw anyone with him other than this woman here.”  She held up the picture of his girlfriend. “From what I could tell, he seems to be a pretty normal guy.  I did hear him coming in late on weekends, but I rarely heard him on weekdays.  Life of a law student, I guess.”

“Did you see anything suspicious in the building last night?”

“I got in around two, but I didn’t see anyone else.  We should talk to Ben.  He helped me get Nicole back to her apartment.  He might have seen something on his way out.”

Rilynne and Detective Matthews went through every nook and cranny in Derek’s apartment, gathering every piece of paper related to places he went and people he was connected to.
             

When Detective Matthews went into the bedroom to look through the closet, Rilynne took a good look around the room, and concentrated as hard as she could on the victim.  She pictured his face, recalling every detail she could.  Then she tried to picture him sitting on the couch with his schoolbooks, or with a game controller in his hand.  She imagined him sitting at his table, eating the Chinese food from China Hut, which was left in the fridge.

Then she saw a dark room.  She could see Derek’s face, with what looked like dried blood streaming down the left side.  He also appeared to be drugged.  He was not fully unconscious, but seemed to be very groggy.  He was saying something, too.  It was so low, though, that she couldn’t make it out.  Maybe if she tried just a little bit harder.  “Why are you doing this?”  He seemed to be repeating it.

Rilynne opened her eyes just in time to see Matthews walk back in.  He was carrying two boxes that seemed to be completely full. 

“Well, this guy seems to keep everything.  Hopefully something in here will give us an idea of how he crossed this guy’s path.  Did you find anything else in here?” Matthews asked as he stacked the boxes with the three that were already by the door.

“I think we got everything,” she said as she stood back up.  “We should check the security cameras on our way out, though.  There are cameras at the door, in the elevator, the stairs, and the roof.”

The security officer wasn’t any help when they reached the lobby.  “The cameras all went out three days ago,” he said.  “I’ve called to get them repaired, but it will probably be at least a week before they can get in to look at them.” 

“Of course they are,” Rilynne mumbled, kneading the back of her neck.  “We are going to need the footage from the last month.  He might have been casing the place.”

*     *     *

Derek Hartley really did seem to keep everything.  He had receipts for every purchase he made, even if it was just stopping to buy a gallon of milk.  It took the better part of the day for them to sort through all of his papers and make a list of everywhere he had visited the three years he had been in the city.

He was a creature of habit.  Every Sunday evening he shopped at the same store for all of his groceries, with the exception of the occasional corner store trip for just an item or two.  He always ate lunch on campus during the week, and only ordered from three places for takeout food.  He also only frequented one bar on the nights he went out, which was the same one he had been last seen leaving.  Other than a police report he had filed for a breaking and entering six months before, he had lived a peaceful and structured life.

“This should definitely give us somewhere to start,” proclaimed Detective Wilcome.  “Now we need to check the other victims’ bank records against this list, and see if they have any places in common.  How are we coming with the surveillance tapes from the building?”

Tucked in the corner was Detective Brenda Butcher.  She was really the only person in the office who had not warmed up to Rilynne.  She was also the only other female in the detective unit, which probably played a big role in that.  Her thick black hair, which ran past her waist, was always pulled up in a tight bun.  She was not a large woman, though she carried a few extra pounds. That seemed to affect her self-esteem greatly.  If Rilynne had to guess, she would say she was a slightly heavy woman who saw herself as a very heavy one.  Because of this, she would feed off of anything nice that was said about her, almost to an excessive degree.  This led most of the male detectives to want to steer clear of her as much as possible, so as not to risk causing her to develop an ill-placed infatuation.  From flashes Rilynne had seen, she also enjoyed making little costumes for her numerous cats, and parading them around in her house.  Despite all that, though, she was actually a very good detective.

“I’ve isolated all of the faces going in and out of the building in the last month,” she answered without taking her eyes off the screen.  “I’m checking the stairs now to see who visited the fourth floor, then I will do the elevator.  I’m also going to check the roof to see if anyone could have come in from the top of another building.”

“Let me know when you have the list for me.  Jerkins,” he called across the room, “do you have a list of all the tenants in the building?”

“I have the list from the landlord, and I’m pulling up driver’s license pictures right now to match with the faces on the surveillance video.  I’m about half way through.”  Like Brenda Butcher, Detective Jerkins did not remove his eyes from what he was doing.  “Give me another hour and I’ll be finished.”

“Great. LaShad, Skinner, I want you to take these photos and start putting a name to the faces we are seeing on the videos. Johnson,” he turned to the older black man walking into the room. “Did the crime scene investigators turn up anything at the scene?”

“There were no prints in the apartment other than the victim’s and his girlfriend.  She’s a teacher, so her prints are in the system.  The doorknob and the door were completely clean, so it appears it was wiped down. They are sifting through all of the prints on the front doors of the building and the elevator buttons, but they aren’t very hopeful.  Where can I help?” he asked, looking around the room at everyone busy at work.  “Work with Evans and Matthews in sifting through all of the victims’ credit card transactions to see if there’s anything in common with the list we have from Derek Hartley.”

Wilcome walked out the door and called the remaining six detectives in the office to come into the conference room.  “Steele, Tylers, have you had any luck tracking down the girlfriend?” he asked the two younger men at the back of the group.  Both men had similar dark hair and green eyes.  By the look of them, they could easily have been brothers.  The only remarkable difference between them was Ernie Tylers was a good three inches taller. 

“She told her neighbor she would be visiting her parents this weekend.  We have officers on the way there to pick her up.”  Jeremy Steele was the one to answer. 

“Good.  I want all of you to start talking to the families of the past victims, and see if the men had a connection to any of these places.”  Wilcome handed each of the detectives the completed lists from Derek’s life.

*     *     *

“Thank you for coming in Miss Martin.”

Derek Hartley’s girlfriend, Emily Martin, was in a near panic when she was led into the station house.  There was no need to tell her the gravity of the situation.  Every woman in the city knew what to expect if they received that call.

Emily did not respond, but just sank into the chair Rilynne offered.  Detective Wilcome insisted he perform the interview himself, but accepted Rilynne’s request to sit in.  The more she knew about the victim’s life, the easier it would be for her to see something helpful.  Emily’s eyes were red and puffy, and if she had been wearing any, it appeared that all makeup had been washed away.  Her brunette hair was put up in an untidy ponytail, leaving bits of it dangling haphazardly around her face.  It was clear she had spent the hour-long drive from her parent’s house to the station in tears.  “Can I get you anything to drink?” Rilynne asked as she gently placed her hand on Emily’s shoulder.

“I know you.  I have seen you somewhere.”  Emily’s swollen eyes had settled on Rilynne’s face.

Rilynne pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.  “I live in the apartment downstairs from Derek.  We have seen each other in passing.  My name is Detective Evans, and this-” she motioned across the table from Emily “-is Detective Wilcome.  He would like to ask you a few questions that will help us understand what happened last night.”

Emily seemed to be in a complete haze.  She stared at Rilynne for a few moments before slowly shifting her gaze to Detective Wilcome.  Even then, she did not seem to have focused on his face, rather just stared blankly in his general direction.  “What do you want to know?”  She seemed to have to force the words out of her throat.

“You were seen leaving Lander’s Bar at one thirty this morning.  Where did you go when you left?”

“Um, we walked back to my apartment.  I was leaving first thing in the morning, so he just dropped me off instead of staying so he could sleep in.  I should have made him stay.”

“Think back to your evening.  Did you see anyone who was watching you, or seemed to be following you?”