Drop Dead Perfect (An Ellen Harper Psycho-Thriller) (30 page)

“Now Bella?” asked Brice.

“No. It’s okay. Go ahead. I want to know how he got tangled up with Joel and Kate,” said Ellen.

“I’d want to know too. Two of your techs told me they finally got all of the phone records and email stuff back from the phone company. Since old Stevie boy ain’t talking, they had to piece it all together.”

“Maybe he’ll be more talkative when he’s arraigned on multiple murder charges,” said Ellen.

“I hear you. Their best guess is that apparently the prick had a patent for some new procedure that would process DNA results in half the time. He couldn’t get a loan to finish the research because he was already up to his neck in debt, and so he went to Joel.”

Ellen shook her head. “I’m not surprised by that. He’s bright. But I still don’t get their
connection. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how he and Joel hooked up. I can’t figure it out. They may have met a time or two, but that’s all.”

“Yeah. That part’s fuzzy. We may never know that for sure. But there are records of Joel giving him thousands of dollars, and Joel telling him the time will come when they can scratch each other’s back. That’s about the extent of that kind of communication because Joel was aware of covering his ass.”

“So, Joel got Steve Jansen to commit murder for a few bucks? Doesn’t sound right,” said Ellen.

“It doesn’t. But people have killed for far less,” added Brice.

“You’re right. They found one email that was pretty crazy. Steve sent it to Joel late one night. Telling him how much he hated Oscar for getting the field job working with you. He said it should have been his. Who knows? The guy could have been plastered or whatever.”

“Did Joel answer?” asked Ellen, hating where this was leading.

“Yep. A short one. He said we all must do what we need to do,” said Sanchez.

“That’s hardly enough to prove premeditated murder,” said Brice.

“True. But if you read between the lines and go with what Jansen had said to Ellen while he was sprawled out on the lab floor, you might have something.”

“So, Joel needs that key back and sends
Jansen to get it, then he sees it as an opportunity to take Oscar out of the picture?” asked Ellen.

“That’s a good guess. And he
was
at that second crime scene,” said Brice.

“Thing is, it’s hard to prove, like Brice said, so maybe we get him to do a deal and fill in all of the blanks.”

“I—”

The door from the operating room opened before Ellen could finish her thought.

The smallish Indian woman walked over to Ellen and stood three feet from her.

She scanned the doctor’s face. Ellen’s tears began to well up. She slipped her shaking hand back into Brice’s. Sanchez moved to Ellen’s other side, grasping her other.

The doctor smiled.

“You can see him tomorrow. He’ll need rest, and he won’t be going back to work, but Big Harv will be around a few more years.”

The doctor’s words were Heaven sent.

The flood of relief was far more than Ellen had expected
and she felt her knees become a bowl of jelly. She released Sanchez’s hand and leaned on Brice, feeling a true sense of joy for the first time in fourteen months.

Maybe she and God wouldn’t need to have that talk after all.

Thank you for reading this beginning to a new series; greatly appreciated!

I had a wonderful time with this one. I wanted it to be a little less graphic and a little more focused on Ellen’s struggles, plus the added hell dealing with a new kind of psycho. It was a tad
more serious, I think, but had all of the twists and turns of a Murcer novel. Let me know how we did at
[email protected]
.

Also, attached is the first Chapter of
Vegas Rain
, the sixth Manny Williams Thriller. I hope you enjoy. I’m shooting for mid-August as a release date…hopefully.

Thank you again for reading and supporting my dream.

Always yours,

Rick Murcer

CHAPTER-1

The roar of the large yellow backhoe caught his attention and Special FBI Agent Manny Williams watched as it turned the corner of the gravel trail running through the middle of the cemetery and headed directly his way. It swung to the left; barely avoiding a one-hundred-year-old tombstone, then was back on track.

A few seconds later, he got a better glimpse of the driver and passenger.

Josh Corner, the leader of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, and Alex Downs, Manny’s long-time friend and the most talented CSI he’d ever worked with, were crowded side by side on the bench seat, Josh driving, Alex giving animated directions with his hands. Manny smiled. He’d remember this one. It was like a Laurel and Hardy skit from way back.

Wheeling up close, the smell of spent diesel fuel dancing through the crisp Michigan air, the monstrosity rumbled to a jerky stop.

Josh jumped out and Alex followed suit, shaking his head.

“I got to get one of these,” said Josh. “That was more fun than riding with Sophie when she’s in a hurry.”

“Yeah. You just have to learn how to start one, drive it, and control the front loader and the backhoe. Other than that you’re good to go,” said Alex, pulling his black rim glasses from his round face and wiping then against his fleece jacket.

Josh shrugged, running his hand over his almost-shaved head, his cobalt blue eyes sparkling. “Not bad for a city boy, though.”

Another roar of a high-powered engine caused the three men to turn toward the opposite direction and focus on a black FBI SUV as it banked around the corner of the gravel road.

Manny watched the gravel fly as the vehicle fishtailed to the left, then the right. Five seconds later it came to an even stop, engine revving. Before the wheels had even stopped rolling, both doors were flung open and the last two members of the BAU came walking in their direction.

Sophie Lee, his attractive, diminutive Chinese-American ex-partner from his time with the Lansing Police Department, who had joined him at the Bureau, was a few feet ahead of the taller Dean Mikus, the other forensic expert of the BAU. Dean’s bearded face was flushed as he held tight to the red paisley driver’s cap, which matched his shirt.

Manny shook his head. The man had a fashion sense, if you could call it that, that was all his own.

Dean had been smitten by Sophie the second he’d laid eyes on her in Puerto Rico some five months ago. He’d even gotten down on one knee, called her princess, and kissed her hand.

It hadn’t happened often in the nine years he and Sophie had worked together, but she’d been speechless, for a few seconds at least. She was warming up to Dean, but was taking her time. Manny thought that kind of patience a great choice. She’d been through enough hell in her personal life over the last few years, so to dive in the deep end of the pool wasn’t wise.

Sophie looped her arm through Manny’s, then gave him a kiss on the cheek. “This better be good Williams. You got my ass out of bed way too early for a weekend. Just because you gave up any hope of a real life, now that you’re married, doesn’t mean I did. The nightlife in Lansing needs me. I’m in demand.”

Patting Sophie’s arm, Manny smiled. No matter the circumstance, and this one was a as unreal as he could imagine, she held an innate ability to make him do just that; smile.

“Hey. This is what you get when you sign up to protect your country and join the FBI. Besides, you know the Behavioral Analysis Unit never gets any sleep. It’s in the job description,” Manny answered.

“Whatever. You dragged me to a cemetery to boot? You sure know how to show a woman a good time, Williams. My public needs to see me looking my best.”

“Public? Rumor has it that you were home and in bed, and alone, by eleven p.m.”

Sophie shot Manny a look, and then turned an icy stare toward the bearded Dean Mikus, the newest member of the BAU. He wasn’t only an accomplished CSI, but he and Sophie had something going on. Manny just wasn’t sure what it was, or if the two of them had a clue either.

“Hey Princess. I can’t lie to him. You said you were tired and I dropped you off at your apartment. I even watched you turn out your lights before I went to the hotel.”

“You watched me turn off the lights? Normally I’d think that’s creepy, even for me, but coming from you, that’s kind of cool. Did you see anything? You know, like, was I naked and silhouetted against the curtain?
That kind of stuff?”

Dean’s face turned a bright scarlet. “Well I didn’t exactly, you know, see . . .”

“Okay. Let’s stay on task. You two can talk about this on your own time.”

“See what I mean, Williams? You’re letting the air out of your marriage already. You’re still hot, but man, you gotta keep things hopping. Chloe will think you’ve turned old, hell, you know, like fifty or something.”

“Chloe and I are just fine.” His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t allowed to talk to her about our personal life, got it?”

“Yeah, I got it, but what you don’t know won’t hurt you,” said Sophie, her smile as incorrigible as ever.

“Anyway, what’s going on here? You said something about Argyle’s grave being empty?” asked Sophie.

For an unnumbered time, he tried to get his mind around what Sophie had asked. How the body wound up missing was the least of his concerns; the why held a much more pointed, unsettling overtone that had his mind running in circles.

Manny had put the brilliant, but totally demented, killer in the ground with a bullet to the head in Galway, Ireland a year ago. Even though the good doctor had cultivated some over-zealous groupies, the act of robbing Dr. Argyle’s grave was almost beyond comprehension for any who might still be around.

Running his hand through his hair, Manny spoke. “I had Alex get an exhumation order while were coming back from North Carolina after we found out that Max Tucker had been killed.”

“You didn’t say why you wanted to do it, exactly,” said Josh.

“I’m not sure why, it was a gut feeling, I guess. It simply seemed odd to me that Max was killed when he was a certified disciple of Argyle. I mean what was gained by that? Toss in the circumstances involving the murder of Garity after he stabbed me in San Juan, well, it made me wonder, just for a moment, if I’d really put Argyle away.”

“What? Are you saying Argyle might still be alive? You blew his head off, remember?” said Sophie, her voice rising higher.

“I know how crazy that sounds, but did I really? Think about it, about him. He always had an escape, a way out, right? He’d never exposed himself to the remotest chance of dying, at least
intentionally. He had the money, the time, that brain-washing charm, everything he’d need to create a perfect doppelganger,” said Manny.

Josh shifted his weight, obviously uncomfortable. “I don’t question your instincts any more, but like I said when you wanted to do this, you need to give yourself more credit. We beat him at his own game. He never saw us coming.”

Manny nodded. “I keep thinking that, but I need, no, we all need, to make sure. I wanted Alex to do a DNA analysis of his body to help me rest easier,” answered Manny.

Taking a few steps toward the open grave some twenty feet away, Manny turned back to the others.

“Now we get this. An empty grave without a clue of where the body might be. Does anyone else want to chime in with an explanation for this?”

“Not yet,” said Dean. “Do we have any idea how this might have happened? It could lead to the why and where, maybe?”

“The how is simple. The man working the third shift at the cemetery dug the casket up sometime last week, apparently.”

“Why would he do that?” asked Sophie, shaking her head.

“I think we can figure that one out. After he called last night, I had Alex do background checks on anyone who might have had access to this cemetery and the backhoe.”

“Good place to start,” said Josh.

“We thought so. At any rate, this guy was a City of Lansing employee and he was also a patient of Doctor Fredrick Argyle about five years ago. He was sent in for counseling after he’d lost his son to a drunk driving accident.”

“Shit, is there anyone that guy didn’t treat in this damn city?” said Sophie.

“He had the contract for city and county employees, so you can guess at the opportunities he had to spread his warped gospel.”

“Should we check out the rest of the people he had contact with over that time period?” asked Josh.

“We should. Although I suspect he only targeted people who he thought he could manipulate. I’ve talked to my old boss, Commissioner Gavin Crosby, and he’s going to work on creating a list of names.”

The early spring morning accepted the following silence.

Manny knew that the talented group of FBI agents, and close friends, were trying to get their minds around what he’d already accepted.

Argyle could be alive.