Authors: Teri Riggs
The eleven o’clock mail run came and went. Nothing, but when the afternoon mail came, Ed got the envelope everyone feared—and some hoped—might come. The police officers put in a call to Homicide and were trying to convince Ed not to open the letter when Kennedy and Wilder arrived.
“Wait up, Mr. Hershey,” Kennedy ordered. “Let us ch
eck that out before you
open it. No telling what might be in that envelope
. We wouldn’t want you to get
hurt.”
Ed knew a line of bullshit when he heard one, but let go when Wilder, who already had a set of gloves on, took the envelope and held it up to the light.
Wilder
studied the envelope. “I can’t see jack shit, Kenny. The paper is generic, and too heavy to see through.”
“Open it.” She pulled on a pair of gloves and watched her partner slip a finger under the flap. “Be careful, it’d be a shame to ruin good evidence.” She made the statement for Ed and Frank’s benefit, hoping they’d step away.
But Wilder didn’t give Ed a chance to grab the evidence or disagree. He lowered the envelope, ran his finger horizontally through the flap and opened it. And he did it all before Ed could open his mouth.
Kennedy fought to hide her grin as she glanced at Ed and Frank under her lashes. By the look on their faces, they weren’t thinking it was too damn funny.
Wilder pulled a photo out and took a quick look.
“Dammit to hell,” Wilder snarled. “It’s the same.”
Frank said, “The same? Another AFTER picture? That means you found another dead body last night, didn’t you?”
Kennedy heard the excitement in the man’s voice and looked to Wilder, wondering if he’d caught it, too. The look on his face, said he had. He handed her the photo and she got her first look. It was last night’s victim and across the top was the word AFTER in bold letters.
Ed reached for it. “It’s addressed to me, I have a right. Let me have a look.”
Kennedy pulled the picture back before Ed could touch it. “Technically, Mr. Hershey, its evidence now and in the custody of Metro Homicide.” She thought a moment, wondering what his reaction would be. “Maybe you should have a look.”
Ed took a look at the photo and turned pale. Kennedy thought for a moment he might pass out. He looked away. “How can you two look at that kind of stuff all the time?”
Kennedy and her partner ignored his question.
“Why do you think the killer is sending you pictures of dead women?”
“No clue. He admires my reporting skills? People trust me? Maybe because of my past link with a serial killer?” He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Right,” Wilder nodded. “Detective O’Brien, show Mr. Hershey a copy of the photo found last night on our victim’s body.”
Kennedy hesitated.
“Go on, show it to him. Mr. Hershey is already involved and I’m sure we can trust him not to share the information with his audience. He wouldn’t want to be arrested on an obstruction of justice charge. No one here wants that to happen.”
Wilder glared at Ed and then at Frank. “No one, right?”
Both Ed and Frank bobbed their heads in agreement, but Ed had a look of disappointment, or maybe it was disgust, etched on his face.
Kennedy gave him a minute to simmer before she pulled out a clear evidence bag, sealed, containing a photo. She tossed it on his desk, face up.
“There’s the woman in the picture you just received, Mr. Hershey, minus the pink hair. Alive and well and not even aware she’s about to die. Do you know her?”
He pushed away the clear plastic evidence bag. “No I don’t. And I didn’t know the other victim either.”
Kennedy thought about it, and then asked, “Any chance you recognize where this picture was taken?”
“No. It doesn’t look familiar to me at all.” Ed shook his head. “She’s leaning against a fence of some sort and there’s water in the background? I don’t recognize it. Where was it taken?”
Frank leaned over Ed’s shoulder. “Looks like the water down by the New York, New York Casino and Hotel. Look over to left side of the photo.” He pointed a finger. See it?”
“Ah yes, now I do,” Wilder said. “It’s right there in front of our eyes. Hell, it’s the Statue of Liberty’s shadow.”
“Amazing you could pick up on that so quickly, don’t you think?” Kennedy was a little skeptical of Frank’s rapid deduction. She wasn’t seeing it, but Wilder did, so she looked again.
“I’ve lived in Vegas a long, long time and can spot almost any hotel or landmark here. My first job here at LVTVS was on a film crew. I’ve been around.”
“I don’t doubt that you have.” Kennedy looked him in the eye a moment before turning to Ed. “And you didn’t recognize the spot right away?”
“No, Detective. But then, I haven’t been around as long as Frankie. I’ve always been an anchor. Mostly I’m here in the studio.”
Kennedy put the picture back in her purse. Next, she pulled out another one of the small evidence bags. Wilder placed the newest picture in it and she added it to her bag. “We’ll get this to the crime lab.
“So, can you two tell me where you were last night?”
The two looked shocked at the question. Frank recovered
fir
st
.
“I was at home, watching a game. A couple of the guys came around. One of them drank too much and passed out on the sofa. He was still there this morning.”
Kennedy nodded. “I’ll need the names of those guys.”
Frank, looking a little embarrassed, grabbed a slip of paper and wrote down the names. “My neighbor and the super of my building.”
“I’ll check this out.”
Kennedy looked at Ed and raised one eyebrow.
“I was here until, I don’t know, after midnight, maybe a little later. We had the
11 o’clock news to get out—I’m the anchor, of course. Afterwards, I looked over some notes for tomorrow’s newscast and went home. I didn’t see anyone on my way out.”
Wilder nodded. “Well. Would you two mind giving us a sample of your DNA if it comes to that? Just so we can clear you as suspects?”
The two men looked at one another, eyes wide. Ed finally responded. “Of course, Detectives. Whatever you need. LVTVS is always eager to cooperate with Metro Homicide.”
Kennedy snorted. “We appreciate your cooperation; please call us if you receive any more correspondence from the murderer.”
Wilder, a distinct air of authority in his tone, added sharply, “Remember, if you receive a letter or another picture and don’t call us, it’s obstruction of justice. That’s a serious charge.”
Kennedy smiled sympathetically. “I imagine we could even charge you with accessory after the fact. You’d be looking at some hard time with your past history.”
Ed Hershey didn’t so much as blink. How did he always look so cool? Maybe the man had a great poker face. Accessory after the fact or obstruction of justice charges were the two best threats in her arsenal of intimidation. Usually, the words struck the fear of God in anyone she threw them at.
She upped the ante. “Mr. Hershey, you were way out of line when Cox chose you to be his messenger boy and you refused to cooperate with Metro in his apprehension. The District Attorney’s Office won’t be so forgiving this time around. I’d bet the DA would love the chance to press charges.”
She caught the barely-there twitch in his right eye. A smile tugged at her lips. Gotcha.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KENNEDY AND WILDER SPENT THE REST OF THE MORNING GATHERING INFORMATION ABOUT THE TWO MURDERED WOMEN.
As far as they could tell, the two victims were just your average, garden-variety-type hookers. Both lived alone, and, with the exception of Liz Clayton’s mother living near Nellis AFB, neither had family close by.
After long hours of Metro officers flashing the Liz Clayton BEFORE photo around in Hooker Haven, the woman having coffee with her was located and they brought her in to see Wilder and Kennedy.
Angel Rodriguez sobbed uncontrollably for a good five minutes after Kennedy told her about her friend’s murder. Kennedy, feeling totally useless, passed her a tissue.
Damn, she hated when people turned on the water works. She leaned into her partner, whispering awkwardly. “Wilder, do something here. Get her to stop crying.”
He whispered back, “How the hell do you suggest I do that?”
“I don’t know. You’re better at this shit than me.” She tried to pass him the box of tissues and he shoved it back at her.
Apparently, Angel heard them. “I’m fine, Detectives. Just give me a minute to pull myself together.” She sniffled, and then blew her nose into the tissue. “I still can’t believe Lizzy is gone. Who would do that to her?”
“We’re going to figure that out, but we need your help.” Kennedy showed Angel the picture that was found on Liz’s body. “Can you verify when and where this photo was taken?”
“I’m not sure.” Angel took a longer look at the picture. “Actually, this looks like the little café on Fremont Street where we met last week. We had a late lunch and caught up on each other’s gossip.”
“Did Ms. Clayton seem okay at that time? Did she act differently?”
“No, Lizzy was just Lizzy.” Hiccups mixed with her tears. “She seemed fine, really she did.”
Kennedy offered another tissue. “Any mention of someone following her?” Angel shook her head.
“No mention of anyone hanging around?” Wilder added.
“Not to me.” Angel took the whole box of tissues from Kennedy’s hand.
“How about boyfriends?”
“No, she was in-between boyfriends.” She kept her eyes on the picture.
Wilder asked, “Do you remember seeing someone take that photo? They may have used a cell phone.”
“Sorry, I’m afraid not.”
He asked again. “You sure? Maybe someone was just hanging around nearby with a camera? Maybe pointing a phone they weren’t talking on in your direction.”
She looked up at Kennedy, then Wilder. “Detective James, we were on Freemont Street. Everyone has a camera there. It’s a tourist hangout. And, everyone carries a cell phone.” The woman glanced at her friend’s picture again and a new onslaught of tears fell.
Jeez, how could one woman cry so much? Kennedy tucked the pictures back in the file, hoping the gesture would turn off the tears. “How did she pick up her tricks?”
“Like most of us. She just hung out, usually in the same spot. Lizzy was very picky about who she turned tricks for.”
“Picky?”
“She liked her guys to be clean. Lizzy always said if a guy was too lazy to bathe, she wasn’t doing him. Not for any amount of money.” Angel blew her nose, sounding like a fog horn. “I’m not sure if it’s important, but I know she preferred her tricks to be younger guys.”
“How young are we talking?” Kennedy asked.
Angel shrugged a shoulder. “I’d say in the twenty to forty year old range.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. She and Wilder should focus on possible suspects in that age bracket. Of course that’s assuming they found a viable suspect. So far, they had nothing.
“Did she turn away many tricks?”
“She always turned down the older johns. She said doing an old guy would be like doing her father. Lizzy thought that was sick.”
No shit. “How old would you say she’d consider too old?”
“Anyone that looked, you know, like totally gray and wrinkled.”
Kennedy instantly thought of the old man getting the blow-job at Willy B. Slick’s apartment and fought off the grin that threatened. She stole a glance at Wilder. He hadn’t bothered to hide his smile.
She cleared her throat and looked back to Angel. “I see. How’d she stay in business being so picky?”
“You’d be surprised. There are a lot of johns to choose from.” She seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Lizzie serviced a lot of first timers.”
Kennedy was puzzled. “By first timers are you talking about someone having their first sexual experience?”
“She was a real sucker for the young guys who were out for their first.” “How did she know if it was a guy’s first time. Ask?”
“Exactly. She just asked. If a john was going to lie, it’d be to say he was experienced. Not a newbie.”
Wilder looked up from the notebook he was writing notes in. “Sure. Why not a hooker for your first time? Who has more experience? If I had it to do over...”
“The kids from UNLV are big customers. You wouldn’t believe the number of guys who show up freshman year and have never had sex.” She shook her head slowly. “Can you imagine still being a virgin at eighteen?”
The look on Wilder’s face was pure bewilderment. “I can’t imagine. It’s mind boggling.”
Kennedy’s lips curled in a thin half smile. “Did she have many regular johns?”
“She had a few, but on this side of Washington Street you don’t get much repeat business.”
“Do you remember her talking about taking on any new regulars lately? Or any mention of guys getting a little too rough? Maybe threatening her?”
“No.”
“Did she keep a journal or list of her johns?”
“Lizzy had a good memory. She kept everything in her head.” Angel tapped the side of her head.
“Did she ever talk details about any of her regulars?”
“She mentioned a few, but I don’t think the names Lizzie gave me will be of much help to you.”
Kennedy hated it when someone tried to second guess her. “Why don’t you tell us the names and we’ll decide whether or not they’re helpful.”
“Okay, if you say so.” Angel’s eyes closed. “Let me see, there was a Mr. Big, a Mr. Long, a Mr. Quick-draw. . .”
“Never mind. I get your point. No real names were ever used.”
“Sorry, Detectives. That’s all I ever heard call her guys.”
Kennedy gave her a card. “Give us a call if you think of anything else.”
“Well
, that was a bust,” Wilder shook his head.
Kennedy watched the young woman leave. “Not totally. We should put younger suspects at the top of our suspect list.”
“Kenny, we gotta have a list before we start narrowing it down. Besides, you know better than to go into an investigation with preconceived notions.”
“Okay, my bad. Let’s update the murder board and book. Maybe Tenuta and Sparks have come up with something new on their end.”
Her cell rang and Kennedy checked the caller ID. “It’s Tenuta.” “Well, speak of the devil.”
She hit the talk button. “What’s up, Jimmy? Where you at?”
“Sparky and me are on a call. So listen up. Got a name on your second vic.” Jimmy’s voice was over-the-top cheery. He sounded like a happy camper, a cocky, happy camper.
Kennedy ground her teeth. The man could find anything on the computer and was always willing to help, but jeez, he was a pain in the ass when he shared the info he found.
She stretched her neck, heard a slight popping as her vertebrae twisted. “You gonna make me beg for the name or what?”
“Always impatient aren’t you, O’Brien?” His laugh was short, but loud. Typical.
She held the phone away from her ear. Wilder grabbed it from her.
“Quit dickin’ around, Jimmy.” Kennedy reached for the phone and he waved her off. “We’re coming up short on this case and we’d like to get it moving in the right direction some time in this century.”
He paused a few minutes, listening to the other man. “Hey I can take a joke as well as the next guy, but not when it’s hot enough on the streets to melt the freaking rubber off my shoes.”
She watched the occasional nod of his head to whatever Tenuta was saying on his end. “Thanks, Jimmy. We’ll see you after we check it out.”
He flipped her cell phone closed and passed it back to her. “Wendy Prentice. He got an address.”
She put the phone back in her purse. “Let’s go”
The
superintendant of Wendy Prentice’s apartment was waiting for them and let them in without fanfare. Gloved up, they found the place small, but neat and tidy. Wendy didn’t have nearly as many working clothes as Liz Clayton had tucked away, but she did have a large stash of hair products and wigs scattered throughout the rooms.
Kennedy shuffled through a stack of papers and bills. “Looks like Wendy was taking classes at the Las Vegas School of Cosmetology.”
“We can make a quick stop at the school on the way back to Metro.” Wilder held up a wig with long cascades of blonde curls, and spun it around. “I guess that’s why she’s got these things all over the place.”
“Yeah, maybe.” She sifted through the last kitchen drawer. “I’m not finding anything useful here. We can have CSU check it out, but I’m sure it’ll come up clean.” Kennedy took a final glance around the room. “Doesn’t look like she conducted business here.”
“I agree. She didn’t bring her work home with her. She’s only got a twin sized bed—not much room for bouncing.”
Kennedy closed the drawer. “Let’s check out the neighbors.”
Ten minutes later CSU arrived. Since the apartment wasn’t a murder scene, they didn’t need to stay while it was processed, so they thanked the apartment super and were on the way out the door.
The neighbors hadn’t had much to say. Wendy mostly kept to herself, and as far as they knew there was no main man in her life. No new leads there.
The stop at the cosmetology school netted nothing either. Few knew Wendy very well, but everyone liked her.
Other than the fact that she sold her body for a living, Wendy Prentice seemed like your average, everyday girl working her way through school.
Back
at Metro, Sparks handed Kennedy a stack of computer printouts as she passed his desk. “Here’s the info you requested on your vics.”
She glanced down at the paper. “Thanks, Sparky.”
“No problem.” He folded a sheet of paper and put it in his outbox. “Anything turn up at the Prentice apartment?”
“No, it was a bust.” Kennedy dragged her chair next to Wilder’s. “Ready to have a look at the victim’s financials and some early lab results?”
Not waiting for an answer, she thumbed through the stack. “Looks like both paid their rent on time. Even had a little saved for a rainy day. Not much, but certainly more than me.”
Wilder took several printouts. “Any amount over fifty dollars in savings is more than you have.”
“Well, th
ey didn’t have a money-sucking,
‘65 Mustang that needs cash
continuously pumped into it.”
Wilder gave her his usual reply. “Sell the damn thing.”
Kennedy gave him her usual reply to his usual reply. She shot him a lethal eye
dagger.
He pretended not to notice. “The initial toxicology reports came back normal. No alcohol, no recreational drugs, not even over-the-counter drugs. Both were taking birth control pills. Says here the full tox screen will be back in another four to six weeks.”
Kennedy took the lab results from Wilder and studied them. “I’m not
surprised about the birth control pills. In their line of work pregnancy could be a problem.”
“I’d say it’d be a major deal breaker.” He stood. “I’m getting a coffee. Want
one?”
She nodded. Her phone rang. she covered the mouth piece and mouthed silently, “It’s Jack-Off.”
By the time Kennedy had disconnected, Wilder was back with a steaming mug of the world’s crappiest coffee. Cop coffee. Going twenty-four hours with very little sleep, she needed the caffeine, no matter how bad it tasted.
Wilder sat down at his desk. “Did Jack-Off have anything useful to say?”
“He says semen was found in and on Wendy Prentice’s body too. And, like the first victim, she managed to get in a few swipes at her killer. He was able to pull skin samples from under her nails and sent them for DNA testing.”
Wilder sipped his coffee. “Are the lab results back on what Hoff found under Liz Clayton’s nails?”