By
Al Lamanda
Copyright by Al Lamanda
Chapter One
Duncan Wyatt looked across the blue
workout mat at Lo-Lo Del Ray, a tall, muscular and stunning redhead who was
soon to be his bride. Her long hair was pinned up and she wore pink tights.
Barefoot, her toenails were bright red.
“Show me Russian,”
Wyatt said, referencing the Russian form of martial arts he learned when he was
investigating a coalition terrorist incident in Russia years ago.
Lo-Lo wiped sweat
off her brow. Her bright red fingernails glistened in the hot, Florida Keys sun. Her bright blue eyes narrowed to slits.
Wyatt waited.
“Well?” he said.
“I’m thinking,”
Lo-Lo said.
“A deranged madman
is about to attack, there isn’t time to think,” Wyatt said. “Only react.”
“Isn’t deranged
and madman the same thing?” Lo-Lo asked.
“Does the deer
care what kind of rifle the hunter uses to kill it?”
Lo-Lo cocked her
head slightly. “Is that a trick question? Because I’ve never hunted a deer.”
“You have one
second to show me or I’ll dump you right on your …”
Lo-Lo squatted on
her right leg while at the same time extending her left, hooked it around
Wyatt’s right knee, then turned to her right and dumped Wyatt on his back.
Quickly, she spun around and brought her right knee to his throat, but didn’t
apply pressure.
“Good,” Wyatt
said. “Very good. Up.”
Lo-Lo jumped to
her feet.
Seated at a chair
at the patio table under a palm tree, Lo-Lo’s mother Louise Raymond said, “What
is the point of all this grunting and sweating?”
Lo-Lo walked to
her mother. “Since I quit dancing, I need to exercise to stay in shape, Mom. A
little exercise wouldn’t hurt you none either.”
Louise looked at
Wyatt, who was doing pushups on the mat. “I think he’s crazy,” she said.
“Mom, Wyatt isn’t
… look, don’t you have somewhere to go this morning?” Lo-Lo said. “Like buy
furniture?”
Wyatt sat up on
the mat and looked at the small in-law home recently constructed to the left of
the house he shared with Lo-Lo. It had one bedroom, a living room, and kitchen
and laundry room.
“What’s the
hurry?” Louise asked. “I’m not moving in until after the weeding. I still have
to sell my house in Idaho
and help you plan the wedding in the fall.”
“Mom, it’s the
first of June,” Lo-Lo said.
“And very hot,”
Louise said.
“We’re in the …
I’ll take a shower and get dressed,” Lo-Lo said.
Wyatt stood and
walked to the table.
“Mom and I are
going furniture shopping, want to go?” Lo-Lo asked.
“Lucy, men don’t
furniture shop,” Louise said.
Hearing her real
name made Lo-Lo cringe. She hated her name Lucy Louise and insisted that Wyatt
never call her that.
“I’d go but Gary
and Skip are coming by at eleven and noon to do the books,” Wyatt said.
Louise looked at
Lo-Lo. “So go change, I’ll wait.”
Lo-Lo stood, gave
Wyatt a quick kiss and went into the house by the sliding kitchen doors.
Wyatt took the
chair opposite Louise.
“She’s a terrible
cook, my daughter,” Louise said.
“She’s not that
bad,” Wyatt said.
“She burned
spaghetti,” Louise said. “How do you burn spaghetti?”
“I do most of the
cooking anyway,” Wyatt said.
“Who can blame
you,” Louise said.
“Do me a favor and
make sure she doesn’t sneak any cigarettes while you’re shopping,” Wyatt said.
“I’ll do what I
can,” Louise said.
“I need to
change,” Wyatt said. “Gary
will be here in an hour.”
*****
Lo-Lo was already in the shower
when Wyatt stripped off his workout clothes and slid open the glass shower
door.
Seeing her naked
always took his breath away, but lately, since Louise came for her ‘temporary’
stay and he spent most nights on the sofa bed in the living room, his hunger
for her grew worse.
“Wyatt, mom is …”
“Not in the shower
with us,” Wyatt said.
“In that case,”
Lo-Lo said and handed Wyatt the soap. “Do my back.”
Lo-Lo turned and
Wyatt lathered the soap on her back. After a few minutes, Lo-Lo said, “That’s
not my back, Wyatt.”
“It’s sort of your
back,” Wyatt said.
“It’s not even
close,” Lo-Lo said.
“Want me to stop?”
“Does the deer
care what kind of hunter kills it?” Lo-Lo said and bent over slightly.
“I don’t know what
that means, but let’s go with it,” Wyatt said.
*****
Wyatt and Lo-Lo were drinking
coffee at the patio table in the shade of the palm tree. “We should take a swim
when we get back,” Lo-Lo said.
“I’ll give the
pool a skim,” Wyatt said.
Louise exited the
in-law house wearing a light blue pants suit with matching high heels and
toting a blue shoulder bag.
“We won’t be
long,” Louise said.
“We’ll be all
day,” Lo-Lo said.
“How about we try
that new steak restaurant near the Theatre?” Wyatt said.
“Sounds good,”
Lo-Lo said.
“Anything to avoid
the kitchen,” Louise said.
“Mom … oh never
mind,” Lo-Lo said.
“I’ll drive,”
Louise said.
Lo-Lo stood and
handed Louise the keys to her car. “Try not to hit anything on the way to the
mall,” she said.
Once Wyatt was
alone at the table, he opened the newspaper that was delivered daily and
scanned the front page and headlines. He read a few stories in the sports
section until a pickup truck pulled into the dirt driveway and parked next to
his car.
Holding a set of
ledger books, Gary
approached the table.
“Hey, boss, how’s
it going?” Gary
asked.
“Want some coffee?
It’s fresh?”
“Too hot,” Gary said. “I’ll take a
cold drink.”
Wyatt went to the
kitchen to refill his coffee mug and grab a soda for Gary . When he returned, Gary had the ledger books opened.
Since promoting Gary from bartender to
club manager, Wyatt and Lo-Lo didn’t have to visit the club but once a month,
if that. An accounting firm on Islamorada kept the books and deposited their
share of the profits, roughly fifty percent into the account Wyatt opened in
both his and Lo-Lo’s names.
On average, ten
thousand a month was deposited into the joint account. The remaining fifty
percent of the profits went toward health benefits, 401 plans, sick days and
vacation time for the dancers, bartenders and bouncers.
“The accountant
prepared the quarterly taxes for you to sign,” Gary said.
Wyatt scanned the
forms and signed at the bottom.
“Want me to drop
it off or will you stick it in the mail?” Gary
asked.
“Drop it off if
you would.”
“Sure,” Gary said. “Want to check
the supply and liquor bills?”
“Are you skimming
money or hijacking liquor?” Wyatt asked.
“Of course not,” Gary said.
“Then I don’t need
to check the supply and liquor bills.”
Wyatt sipped some
coffee.
“Regulars at the
club ask all the time if Lo-Lo could make a guest appearance,” Gary said.
“She hasn’t
touched a pole in four months,” Wyatt said. “And besides, now that you have the
girls dancing topless, she won’t agree to that anymore. She paid her dues.”
“She won’t have to
go topless,” Gary
said. “The regulars miss her. They don’t care if she isn’t topless.”
“Tell you what,
I’ll ask her,” Wyatt said.
“Thanks, boss.”
After Gary left, Wyatt went for
fresh coffee and waited for Skip. Since Wyatt hired Skip, short for skipper, to
captain the charter boat for tourists and deep sea fishing excursions, Wyatt
hadn’t gone near the boat in months.
There wasn’t a
need. Skip was a far better captain than Wyatt and had years of charter
experience, which Wyatt did not. They agreed to a seventy-five, twenty-five
split with Skip keeping the seventy-five percent.
Even with such a
small percentage, Wyatt pocketed two thousand a month on average. With the
income from the bar, the charter boat and his pension from the FBI, not to
mention the cash he had still in the bank from the sale of his Maryland home a year
ago, there was plenty of liquid cash for a future investment for him and Lo-Lo.
Skip arrived in
his fifteen-year-old Ford truck, parked and came to the table with a thick
appointment book and smaller book for bank deposits.
“Morning, Wyatt,”
Skip said. “Anymore coffee?”
“Sure.”
While Wyatt went
to the kitchen, Skip opened the ledger books. When Wyatt returned and set a mug
on the table, Skip said, “Had a great month. Booked solid and will be booked
solid right through to Labor Day.”
Wyatt scanned the
books and noted a deposit for twenty-seven hundred into his account. “Did you
ask the accountant to set up a vacation fund for you and the crew for a few
weeks after Labor Day?”
“I did and he
did,” Skip said. “He said to give him a call and he’d explain the process to
you.”
“Good. Anything
else?”
“Just sign the
deposit book and I’ll be off.”
*****
Lo-Lo and Louise stopped for lunch
at a small restaurant near the furniture store on Route One. The restaurant
offered backyard tables shaded by an extendable awning and they opted for that
rather than sit inside.
“We hit three
stores, Mom; did anything catch your eye?” Lo-Lo asked.
“I like that
wicker furniture we saw,” Louise said. “It’s very light and won’t absorb the
heat the way heavy furniture does.”
“Furniture doesn’t
absorb heat, Mom.”
“Ever sit in a
leather chair on a hot day?”
“Mom, can we …”
“You sweat so much
your back sticks to the chair.”
“That’s why we have
air conditioning,” Lo-Lo said.
“It’s very
expensive air conditioning.”
“We have a good
income from the bar and the boat.”
“I know that, but
what are you going to do with the rest of your life, Lucy?” Louise said. “All I
see you do is beat each other up every morning before breakfast.”
“We’re … Wyatt is
teaching me self defense, Mom,” Lo-Lo said. “He’s very good at it.”
“You’re only
forty-two, Lucy,” Louise said. “You need more in …”
“Forty-one, Mom,”
Lo-Lo said. “I’m forty-one.”
“I should know how
old my own daughter is,” Louise said. “I gave you life. You turned forty-two on
your last birthday.”
“Mom, my …” Lo-Lo
said and then he faced registered shock and surprise. “Oh my God, you’re right,
I am forty-two.”
“I’m always
right,” Louise said. “Just like the leather furniture.”
“Will you shut up
about the … Wyatt thinks I’m forty-one.”
“So, tell him
you’re a year older. Why should he care?”
“I guess I’ll have
to.”
“Can we order
now?” Louise asked.
*****
As Wyatt skimmed the pool and
checked the chlorine level, his cell phone rang. He looked over at the patio
table where he left the phone and then went to answer the call.
He checked the
incoming number.
It was his former
boss, Deputy Director Morgan calling from the FBI headquarters in Washington .
Wyatt left the
call unanswered and returned to skimming the pool.
Chapter Two
After swimming a few laps in the
pool, Lo-Lo turned onto her back and gently floated to Wyatt in the deep end.
She wore a blue racing suit that hugged her like second skin.
“Wyatt, there’s
something I need to tell you,” Lo-Lo said.
Wyatt dipped his
hands below the water and held onto her. “Go ahead.”
“Do you know how I
… Wyatt, I can’t think with your hands on my butt,” Lo-Lo said.
“I’m holding you
up,” Wyatt said.
“I can float on my
own,” Lo-Lo said. “Besides, mom will be joining us any minute.”
“Did you sneak
some cigarettes today?” Wyatt asked.
“No. What? That’s
not what I … just listen,” Lo-Lo said.
Wyatt dropped his
hands and leaned against the side of the wall and waited.
“Wyatt?” Lo-Lo
said.
“I’m listening.”
“Okay, good,”
Lo-Lo said. “What I was going to say is that I made a mistake on my age when I
told you I was forty-one. It was an accident. By that I mean …”
“I know,” Wyatt
said.
“I’m really … what
do you mean you know?”
“All the papers we
signed for the bar, the boat, this house, I can do math,” Wyatt said. “It’s
right on your driver’s license.”
“So you’re not
upset that I’m forty-two?” Lo-Lo asked.
“Nope.”
“Well, I am,”
Lo-Lo said. “I just lost an entire year of being forty-one.”
“It’s not that big
of a …” Wyatt said just as a dark sedan pulled into the driveway and parked
next to Wyatt’s car.
Lo-Lo stood up in
the pool.
“Damn,” Wyatt
said.
“What? Who is it?”
Lo-Lo asked.
The door on the
sedan opened and Morgan got out.
“Oh no,” Lo-Lo
said and hopped out of the pool in one quick motion.
Walking toward
Lo-Lo, Morgan said, “Hello, Lo-Lo.”
“You get out of
here you,” Lo-Lo said. “Every time you show up, Wyatt gets beat up or shot.”
“One time,” Morgan
said.
Lo-Lo glared at
him.
“Okay, twice. Don’t
make a big deal out of it,” Morgan said.
Wyatt got out of
the pool and walked to Morgan.
“I called
earlier,” Morgan said.
“Look at the
bullet holes in his shoulder and stomach,” Lo-Lo said. “Go ahead, look Mr. No
Big Deal.”
“Those are scars,
not bullet holes,” Morgan said.
“What’s the
difference?” Lo-Lo said.
“Bullet holes
bleed,” Morgan said.
“Want a drink,
Morgan?” Wyatt asked.
“Got any of that
good stuff?”
“Black Maple
bourbon and I have some,” Wyatt said.
Lo-Lo looked at
Wyatt. “Being shot twice wasn’t enough for you?”
“Unless the
bourbon is armed and dangerous, we’re just having a drink,” Wyatt said.
“Fine, we’ll all
have a drink,” Lo-Lo said. “But if you get shot again, don’t blame me unless
I’m the one who shoots you.”
*****
Wyatt filled three whiskey glasses
with shaved ice and then dribbled the bourbon over the ice until each glass was
full.
“You don’t look
any worse for wear, Wyatt. How’s the shoulder?” Morgan asked.
“You’re not here
to talk about Wyatt’s shoulder, you sneaky bastard,” Lo-Lo said. “What is it
you want?”
Morgan lifted his
glass, took a sip and sighed. “This is a bad one, Wyatt. I have people on it,
but I’d like you to take a look.”
Wyatt looked at
Lo-Lo and she had a cigarette between her lips “Where did that come from?” he
asked.
“Wouldn’t you like
to know?” Lo-Lo said.
“Wyatt?” Morgan
asked. “You’re the best profiler I ever had. All I’m asking is to take a look.”
“It’s getting
dark,” Wyatt said. “Bring what you have into the house.”
Lo-Lo lit the
cigarette with a match and said, “Son of a bitch.”
*****
Morgan placed a thick folder on the
kitchen table.
“Fourteen
victims,” Morgan said. “All women between the age of twenty-three and
twenty-nine. All escorts from a professional service.”
“Hookers,” Lo-Lo
said.
Morgan turned to
Lo-Lo. “Maybe you shouldn’t hear this?”
“She saved my life
on the boat and helped stop that nut job,” Wyatt said. “She earned her spurs.
She can stay if she wants to.”
Lo-Lo glared at
Morgan. “I’ll stay. What’s spurs?”
“When you ride a
horse … never mind,” Morgan said. “Are you sure?”
Lo-Lo nodded.
“The killing
started a year ago in April,” Morgan said. “At first it was a local problem
because the victims were all spread out along the East Coast. Once the data
banks started grouping them together by MO, we knew we had a serial kill on our
hands. The killings stopped in September of last year and started back up again
just two months ago. Three new victims so far. One in April, two in May.”
“What’s the MO?”
Wyatt asked.
Morgan looked at
Lo-Lo. She had a cigarette in her lips. “Where did that … never mind. The MO is
pretty gruesome. Maybe you shouldn’t hear this?”
“Lo-Lo and I made
a deal, Morgan. No more secrets from each other,” Wyatt said.
“Forty-two and
proud,” Lo-Lo said.
“What?” Morgan
asked.
“The MO, Morgan,”
Wyatt asked.
“He ties his
victims to the bed using long leather strips and cuts them open with a straight
razor,” Morgan said. “The kind of razor a barber uses to shave your face.”
“Is the new
murders a copycat from last September?” Wyatt asked.
“Can’t be,” Morgan
said. “Because of the horrific nature of the killings the details were never
made public by local law enforcement or us.”
“So he took a
hiatus for six months and then started up again?” Wyatt said.
“Appears that
way,” Morgan said. “Wyatt, the women are still alive when he cuts them open.
They watch as he pulls their guts out and dumps them on the bed. They watch
themselves die.”
Wyatt sighed and
looked at Lo-Lo. She looked sick to her stomach.
“Go get some air,”
Wyatt said.
Lo-Lo stood, grabbed
her drink, opened the sliding door and stepped outside.
Wyatt opened the
folder and removed several photographs of the victims. They were ghastly in
nature, gruesome as Morgan said.
“Jesus,” he
whispered.
“He’s not going to
stop, Wyatt,” Morgan said. “Not this one. Not until we catch or kill this one.”
“He did stop,”
Wyatt said. “Then he started again.”
“Why do you think
I’m here, we know that.”
“Who’s leading
your team?” Wyatt asked.
“Out of Atlanta ’s regional
office,” Morgan said. “He’s good, but doesn’t have your experience. He’s flying
into Key West
tomorrow morning. I told him we would have breakfast together.”
“Just to consult,”
Wyatt said. “Nothing more.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it,
Morgan. Just to consult,” Wyatt said.
“Absolutely. Do
you still have your ID?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Why good? I don’t
need ID to …”
“For the nice fat
consulting fee.”
“Want another
drink?”
“Sure. Tomorrow
morning, we’ll discuss the details and whatnot over breakfast.”
“Let’s go
outside.”
Louise was sitting
poolside with Lo-Lo at the table. Lo-Lo had her drink and was smoking a
cigarette.
“Where do you keep
getting the cigarettes from?” Wyatt asked Lo-Lo.
“Who is this
handsome man?” Louise asked as she looked at Morgan.
“This is Morgan,
Wyatt’s old boss at the FBI,” Lo-Lo said. “Morgan, this is my mother, Louise.”
“I thought she was
your sister,” Morgan said.
“Oh my,” Louise
said, her neck blushing.
“Forty-two, Morgan,
is not that old,” Lo-Lo said.
“I don’t …what?”
Morgan said.
Wyatt took a seat
next to Lo-Lo. “I checked the entire house for cigarettes and found none,” he
said.
“I don’t see a
wedding ring,” Louise said to Morgan.
“Oh for,” Lo-Lo
said, stood and dove into the pool.
“Sit,” Louise said
to Morgan. “Let’s discuss this.”
“Discuss what?”
Morgan asked.
Wyatt went to the pool
and jumped in and paddled over to Lo-Lo.
“I think my
mother’s in heat,” Lo-Lo said.
“Makes two of us,”
Wyatt said.
“Wyatt, she’s old
enough to be your …”
“For you,” Wyatt
said.
“Oh.”
Louise walked to
the edge of the pool.
“Morgan and I are
going for a drink,” she said. “Don’t wait up.”
“You’ve got to be
kidding me,” Lo-Lo said.
Wyatt and Lo-Lo
watched Morgan and Louise walk to his sedan and then drive away.
“You’ve got to be
kidding me,” Lo-Lo said again.
“Don’t look now
but we have the bedroom to ourselves,” Wyatt said.
Lo-Lo looked at
Wyatt.
“We have, haven’t
we,” she said.
Chapter Three
Wyatt and Morgan waited at the
outdoor gate at Key West
Airport
The only passenger
to walk down the extended stairway was a tall, handsome black man of about
thirty-five. He carried an overnight bag in his right hand, a brief case in the
left.
He spotted Morgan
and walked to him.
“This is Duncan
Wyatt,” Morgan said. “Wyatt, Special Agent Bokeem Tisdale.”
Wyatt and Tisdale
shook hands.
“I’m holding the
jet overnight,” Morgan said. “We’ll talk over breakfast.”
*****
“Bokeem is an interesting name,”
Wyatt said.
They were just
finishing breakfast at the diner.
“My mother
collects junk from Africa ,” Tisdale said. “We
were all born in Brooklyn , New
York , but she thinks we owe it to our heritage to connect with the
Dark Continent , as she calls it. She named me
after some wood carver in Uganda
who makes statues out of wood. Her house is full of his junk. Drives everybody
crazy at the holidays.”
“Ever been?” Wyatt
asked.
“To Africa ? No.”
“I have,” Wyatt
said.
“No shit,”
Tisdale. “I’ll be sure to tell mama that.”
“What do people
call you, Bo?” Wyatt asked.
“My wife calls me Bo;
my close friends call me Dale. Nobody except Morgan calls me Bokeem.”
“That’s your
name,” Morgan said.
“What about you,
what do I call you?” Tisdale said.
“Just Wyatt will
do,” Wyatt said. “And I hope you don’t think I’m stepping on your toes.”
“Everybody knows
who you are,” Tisdale said. “A man would have to be stupid to reject your
help.”
“Well, let’s get
to it,” Morgan said.
Tisdale opened his
brief case and removed some reports.
“Here’s what we
got,” he said. “Fourteen victims to date. All female, all high class escorts.
All murdered exactly the same way. Bound with leather strips and gagged with
duct tape and sliced open with a straight razor. Lots and lots of DNA, hair
fibers and semen but no clue who it belongs to. Those hooker motels get a lot
of business.”
“Fingerprints?”
Wyatt asked.
“All over the
place, but who belongs to what besides the victims is anybody’s guess,” Tisdale
said.
“Any apartments or
private residences used?” Wyatt asked.
“All hotels and
motels,” Tisdale said. “Mostly mid to inexpensive. Like I said, hooker motels.”
“Did the girls
drive themselves to the hotels?”
“Some did. Others
we don’t know how they got there.”
“These reports,
can I take them for the day,” Wyatt asked. “It’s how I work. I don’t want to
ask too many questions that might prejudge my thinking process.”
“Agent Bokeem
brought them for you, photos included,” Morgan said.
“Stop by my place
around seven-thirty,” Wyatt said. “I throw some steaks on the grill.”
“Will Louise be
there?” Morgan asked.
“Jeeze, Morgan,”
Wyatt said.
*****
Lo-Lo left a note on the kitchen
table for Wyatt.
Went furniture shopping with mom. Back
later. XOXOXO
Wyatt grabbed a
cold soda from the fridge and took the briefcase, a legal pad and pen outside
to the patio table.
He pulled the tab
and took a swallow of soda and looked at the briefcase. About to open it, he
paused when his cell phone rang. He checked the number, then hit talk. “Hey,
hon,” he said.
“Hi Wyatt, it’s
me,” Lo-Lo said.
“I know. That’s
why I called you hon.”
“So listen, did
you see my note?”
“I did. Do me a
favor and stop by that meat market near the mall and pick up ten rib-eye
steaks,” Wyatt said.
“Company?”
“Morgan and
Bokeem,” Wyatt said.
“Bo who?”
“Another FBI
agent.”
“We won’t be home
until around five.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Bye sweetie, see
you at five.”
Wyatt hung up and
opened the briefcase and removed a thick folder and started to read local
reports written by homicide detectives prior to the involvement of the FBI.
The first murder
took place a year ago on April 11th in Princeton , New Jersey Hoboken . Her fee for escorting was five
hundred dollars a night and she was available to dinner, parties, business and
social occasions. Any extra activities, according to the escort service were
strictly between the girl and the client.
She was five foot
ten inches tall and weighed one forty-three. She was blonde with blue eyes.
The ‘client’ had
gagged her mouth with duct tape and tied her spread eagle to the bed posts with
long strips of brown leather. Then he sliced open her abdomen and pulled out
her entrails and simply left her on the bed to die. The coroner stated that it
took about an hour for Cassie to bleed out before she passed. There were no
drugs or alcohol in her system. She had eaten several hours prior to her death.
Her last meal was a burger, salad and apple pie.
Forensics found
fingerprints, hair, her blood and no medical evidence that Cassie had engaged
in recent sexual activity.
She owed a car,
but didn’t drive to the motel.
She lived in Long Beach at the ocean
with a roommate, also an escort with the same agency.
Detectives that
interviewed the escort agency said that Cassie averaged three dates a week,
splitting the fees down the middle. Money negotiated for extra services was one
hundred percent profit.
The manager on
duty at the motel said that Cassie entered the office to rent the room while
someone he assumed was a man stayed outside in a car. It was after ten at
night, dark and he didn’t see the man’s face. The manager also said ‘that it wasn’t unusual at all for people to
check in late at night and leave after a few hours, if you know what I mean.’
Wyatt paused to
drink some soda and think for a few moments.
Then continued
reading.
The next murder
took place on April 28th in Albany ,
New York Buffalo , New York Charlotte , North Carolina Athens , Georgia Baltimore ,
Maryland Providence , Rhode Island Salem , New Hampshire Orlando ,
Florida St. Petersburg , Florida Bangor , Maine
The victims were
all between five foot seven and six feet tall. All weighed between one hundred
and thirty-five to one hundred and fifty pounds. All were murdered in identical
fashion.
In each case,
there were no signs of a struggle.
In each case, the
victim did not have sexual relations with their attacker.
The woman rented
the room, the attacker hid in the car in eight instances. The other three
times, the woman arrived first and the attacker showed up later, according to
the manager of the motels on duty. In those three instances, the victim’s cars
were found in the parking lot.
This year, the
first victim was found on April 23rd in South Caroline near Columbia . The next was on
May 14th in Knoxville ,
Tennessee Albany , New York
The FBI didn’t get
involved until the seventh victim as each murder was handled locally until the
data banks caught up with each other and it was realized they were dealing with
an interstate serial killer.
After each murder,
news stories ran concerning a murdered escort and business dropped off for a
while, and then picked right back up again. Still not publically reported as a
serial killing, the escort service business went on as usual.
When the killings
stopped in September of last year, The FBI and local law enforcement kept
plugging away at the evidence hoping for a break but without results.
In several
instances, synthetic hair fibers were found on the bed and carpet indicating
the attacker wore a wig or toupee.
Wyatt took a break
to think. He did his best thinking while working up a sweat. He changed into
shorts and went to the pull-up bar in the backyard. He did ten sets of pull-ups,
followed by ten sets of pushups, followed by ten sets of stomach crunches. On
the mat he stretched and performed several different types of martial arts
moves and ended with holding a plank position for a full five minutes.
He flipped a coin
to determine if he should go for a run or swim laps in the pool. The pool won
out and Wyatt changed into trunks and did twenty laps in freestyle.
Followed by a
shower and change of clothes and a fresh pot of coffee.
Wyatt sat at the
patio table and made notes on the legal pad from the thoughts he let freefall
during the workout.
Motive?
All medical reports indicate the victims
didn’t struggle? Why?
None of the victims were drunk or on drugs
so impairment wasn’t a factor in the lack of struggle.
None of the victims were raped or engaged in
sexual conduct prior to being murdered.
None of the victims were beaten prior to
being murdered.
How were they overpowered?
Why leather strips? Rope was more common and
probably less expensive.
Use of a straight razor, why? Where do you
buy this type of razor anymore?
How was he choosing his victims? By city or
state? By looks or personality?
Wyatt noted eight of the victims were white,
two were black and one was Asian.
Why did he stop?
Why did he start again nearly six months
later?
What fuels his motive?
What makes his dream live?
Wyatt put the pen
down when Lo-Lo’s car pulled in next to his. He closed the file and put it into
the briefcase.
Lo-Lo carried a
large shopping bag from the meat market. “Got the steaks,” she said.
Beside her, Louise
said, “And I got furniture.”
Wyatt followed
them into the kitchen and filled his coffee mug.
“Morgan and Agent
Bokeem will be here at seven,” he said.
“Bokeem? What kind
of name is Bokeem? I never heard that name before?” Louise said.
“African,” Wyatt
said.
“Is he from Africa ?” Louise asked.
“Brooklyn , New York
“I don’t
understand,” Louise said.
“Just call him Bo
or Dale,” Wyatt said.
“I’m going to take
a shower,” Lo-Lo said.
“And I’m going to
change,” Louise said.
Alone in the
kitchen, Wyatt marinated the steaks.
Chapter Four
“Nice to see you again, Louise,”
Morgan said.
“You look very
handsome in that suit,” Louise said.
Wearing a robe,
Lo-Lo rolled her eyes.
“This is Special
Agent Bokeem Tisdale,” Morgan said.
“Very pleased to
meet you,” Louise said. “Morgan, come sit in the shade with me.”
Lo-Lo looked at
Tisdale. “Wyatt tells me to call you Bo or Dale,” she said.
“Bo will do,”
Tisdale said.
At the grill,
Wyatt said, “Lose the jackets and ties, it’s eighty-five in the shade.”
“Good idea,” Tisdale
said.
“Want to take a
dip?” Lo-Lo asked as she and Tisdale walked to Wyatt.
“Didn’t bring a
suit,” Tisdale said.
Lo-Lo looked at
Wyatt. “Do I have time?”
“You do,” Wyatt
said.
Lo-Lo removed the
robe to expose the blue razorback racing suit she wore.
“I won’t be long,”
she said and dove into the pool.
Tisdale looked at
Wyatt.
“She’s …” Tisdale
said.
“Yeah,” Wyatt
said. “She is.”
Tisdale shook his
head.
“Want a drink?”
“Sure,” Tisdale
said.
“On the table. Try
the Black Maple over ice. We’ll talk after we eat,” Wyatt said.
*****
While Lo-Lo floated around in the
pool and Louise went into the house, Wyatt, Morgan and Tisdale sat at the patio
table with mugs of coffee.
“What do you make
for motive?” Wyatt asked.
“He’s getting
even,” Tisdale said.
“For what?” Wyatt
asked.
“Could be
anything,” Tisdale said. “Hate for his mother, a girlfriend humiliated him; he
blames women for his shitty lot in life. All the victims are escort girls so
maybe he had a bad experience with one and is looking for payback.”
“I don’t think I
buy hate in this case,” Wyatt said.
“Reasons?” Morgan
asked.
“Ever see the
victim of a hate and anger?” Wyatt asked. “They’re beat to a pulp out of rage.
None of the women were beaten prior to being cut open. When he did this, he was
calm and clear-headed.”
“I think I agree
with Wyatt on that one,” Morgan said.
“He has another
reason and we probably won’t know what that is until he’s caught,” Wyatt said.
“He duct tapped their mouth but used leather strips to bind them. Why?”
“Duct tape is
messy to work with,” Tisdale said. “And if you flight hard enough and the tape
gets wet it’s easier to get out of.”
“So why leather
strips and not rope?” Wyatt asked.
“Easier to carry
around in your pocket,” Tisdale said.
“There’s plenty of
rope the diameter of the leather strips,” Wyatt said. “He has another reason
for the leather strips. From the reports, the leather strips were all between
sixty and seventy inches long.”
“So he could tie
the strips to the legs of the bed and still be long enough for an arm and leg,”
Tisdale said.
“Agreed,” Wyatt
said. “Where did he get the leather strips?”
“They have no
brand name on them, so the lab and data couldn’t trace a manufacture, but they
are sold to hobby stores, sporting goods stores and such. There are a dozen or
more companies that make them and they do sell on line, but we haven’t been
able to target a suspect from the sale of strips in quantity.”
“What about
bridal?” Wyatt asked.
“Like wedding
gowns?” Tisdale said.
“Like in saddles
for horses,” Wyatt said. “Saddles use a lot of leather.”
“Shit,” Tisdale
said.
“Very good,
Wyatt,” Morgan said.
“He uses a
straight razor because it’s easy to conceal and makes a nice clean cut,” Wyatt
said. “So where do you buy one these days?”
“Barber supply
stores,” Tisdale said. “And we’re checking them round the clock. Most are sold
directly to professional barbers. Most men don’t know how to use one anymore.”
“No fingerprints
or DNA of any use, what about footprints?” Wyatt said. “If he accidently
stepped in blood and made a print?”
“No,” Tisdale
said. “Not yet anyway.”
“So how did he
overpower these women?” Wyatt said. “He didn’t beat them into submission; there
are no bruises on any of them.”
“It’s possible
after they were in the room he pulled a gun,” Tisdale said. “Or the razor.”
Wyatt stood and
went to the pool. “Hey hon, could you come out for a minute?”
He returned to the
table. “Every one of the victims was between five-foot-eight and six feet
tall,” Wyatt said. “How tall are you, Bo?”
“Five eleven.”
“Weight?”
“About one ninety.”
Lo-Lo, wrapped in
a towel, appeared beside Wyatt.
“Lo-Lo is five
foot eight and weighs one forty,” Wyatt said.
“One
thirty-seven,” Lo-Lo said.
“And strong as an
ox,” Wyatt said. “How do you get her to agree to be tied up on the bed without
her fighting back? If you hit her it will leave a bruise, a mark or cut.”
“I have a gun on
her,” Tisdale said.
“Hold the gun on
her and tie her up at the same time, see what happens?” Wyatt said. “You’d have
to put the gun down to do that and that gives the victim the opportunity to
fight back.”
Tisdale looked at
Lo-Lo. A woman of her size and strength would put up a hell of a fight. The
attacker would have to beat her senseless first and that didn’t happen.
“Do you want me to
flip him around a bit?” Lo-Lo asked.
“That won’t be
necessary,” Wyatt said.
“Then I’m going
back in the pool,” Lo-Lo said, returned to the pool and dove in.
“So how did he do
it?” Morgan said.
“Did the medical
examiners check for tazer marks?” Wyatt asked. “Because I didn’t see mention of
any.”
“In all that mess
it was probably overlooked,” Morgan said.
“That’s doubtful,”
Wyatt said. “More likely they didn’t check. What if he waited for them to
remove their tops and hit them with the tazer right in the abdomen where he
makes the incision? They’re would be nothing to see then, would there?”
“No, there
wouldn’t be,” Morgan agreed.
“We don’t know how
he is selecting his victims and why it’s over such a widespread area,” Wyatt
said. “Any guesses?”
“It’s possible he
has a job that keeps him on the move like a truck driver or some kind of
executive with a territory,” Tisdale said. “A team is checking that.”
“Have them check
saddle supply stores for leather strips and stolen tazer reports,” Wyatt said.
“It’s doubtful he purchased one legally.”
Tisdale nodded.
“The latest victim
is where?” Wyatt said.
“On ice,” Morgan
said. “Along with the evidence.”
Wyatt looked at
Tisdale. “Want to take a look?”
“Absolutely,”
Tisdale said.
“I’ll arrange it,”
Morgan said.
“Tomorrow,” Wyatt
said.
“No problem,”
Morgan said.
“Any guesses as to
why he stopped and started again?” Wyatt asked.
“We know he’s not
following the moon cycle,” Tisdale said.
“Maybe he’s
following the seasons?” Maybe he doesn’t like winter? Maybe come October he
heads down to Miami Beach
and holes up until spring?” Wyatt said. “Maybe he doesn’t want to strike where
he lives, the old you don’t shit where you eat thing?”
“I’m glad you’re
on our side,” Tisdale said.
“Think about a
profile,” Wyatt said. “We’ll talk on the plane.”
“Morgan, I’m
ready,” Louise said.
Wyatt looked at
Louise.
“We’re going
dancing,” Louise said.
“Give me a break,”
Lo-Lo said from the pool.
“Agent Bokeem,
I’ll drop you at the hotel,” Morgan said.
“And don’t wait
up,” Louise said.
*****
Up to her neck in hot bubble bath,
Lo-Lo said, “My mother is a pervert.”
“She’s just
enjoying her golden years,” Wyatt said, seated opposite her in the tub.
“How old is
Morgan?”
“Sixty-one or two.”
“So he’s younger
than her.”
“I don’t think who
is younger than who matters much once you’re sixty,” Wyatt said.
“Take her side why
don’t you,” Lo-Lo said.
“I’m not … there
are no sides here,” Wyatt said. “Want me to do your back?”
“Ha! That is a
trick question,” Lo-Lo said. “I can see one-eyed Wyatt poking up through the
bubbles.”
“One-eyed Wyatt?”
“Oh, like when you
were a kid you didn’t give it a name,” Lo-Lo said.
“I have to go to Albany , New York
“The governor of?”
“New
York .”
“You know the
governor of New York ?”
“Before he was
governor he was a federal prosecutor and a damn good one,” Wyatt said. “Pack an
evening gown and I’ll make a few calls.”
“I’ll go just to
be rid of my mother for a few days,” Lo-Lo said.
“She’s not that
bad,” Wyatt said. “I actually like her and she’ll be living in her own place
right after the wedding.”
“You still want to
marry me knowing my mother?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“I’m just a slave
to one-eyed Wyatt.”
Lo-Lo grinned.
“Yeah, I see that.”
Chapter Five
“This is an FBI jet?” Lo-Lo said
right before takeoff. “It’s nice.”
“And fast,” Wyatt
said. “We’ll be in Albany
in about three hours or less.”
“Where’s Bo?”
“In the cockpit
with the pilots.”
“Where’s Morgan?”
“On his way back
to Washington ,”
Wyatt said.
“My mother didn’t
come home last night,” Lo-Lo said. “She came by cab around seven-thirty this
morning.”
“We’re about to
take off,” Wyatt said. “Forget about your mother and …”
“How can I forget
about it, Wyatt?” Lo-Lo asked. “I keep seeing my mother and Morgan naked
between the sheets and …”
“Buckle your
seatbelt,” Wyatt said.
As Lo-Lo buckled
her seatbelt, Tisdale came out of the cockpit and sat next to Wyatt. “We don’t
have a steward on flight, but I can make a pot of coffee.”
“Good idea,” Wyatt
said.
“Where are we
staying?” Tisdale asked.
“I booked us at
the Albany State House near the Capital
Building
“We’re having
dinner with the governor,” Lo-Lo said. “He’s an old friend of Wyatt.”
“Too bad Morgan
couldn’t make the trip,” Tisdale said.
“Yeah, isn’t it,”
Lo-Lo said, coldly.
Tisdale looked at
Wyatt.
“Morgan and her
mom sort of …”
“Don’t even go
there, Wyatt,” Lo-Lo said.
“Ready for
takeoff,” the pilot said over the PA system.
*****
“Albany is nice,” Lo-Lo said as the cab they
took from the airport arrived at the Albany State House Hotel.
“After we check
in, Bo and I are going to look at evidence,” Wyatt said. “They have a nice spa
here if you want a massage and whatever else women do in spas.”
“What time will
you be back?” Lo-Lo asked.
“Around five,”
Wyatt said. “We’re having dinner at seven.”
“Try not to get
shot,” Lo-Lo said. “Blood doesn’t go well with my gown.”
*****
The medical examiner pulled the
slab out to expose the fourteenth victim. She was about five foot nine, a
hundred and forty pounds, muscular and fit. She was a blonde, top and bottom.
Wyatt couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but the chart said they were gray.
Her wrists and
ankles were purple and bruised from the leather strips. Some skin was damaged
around her mouth when the duct tape had been removed.
The incision from
the razor was just below her naval and went from hip to hip.
Tisdale looked
away. “Jesus,” he said.
Wyatt looked at
the medical examiner.
“Any bruises or
marks on the body besides the burns made by the leather strips and tape?” he
asked.
“Pristine.”
“Judging from the
cut would you say the attacker was right handed or left handed?” Wyatt asked.
“I didn’t …I don’t
know,” the medical examiner said.
“If he was right
handed he would make the cut into her abdomen on his left side and slice to
left to right,” Wyatt said. “Left handed, he would cut into her abdomen on his
right side.”
“Facing her you
mean?” the medical examiner said.
“Yes.”
“I’ll reevaluate.”
“Sew her up and
check for tiny marks made possibly by a tazer,” Wyatt said.
“In that
condition, it’s a needle in a haystack,” the medical examiner said.
“I know,” Wyatt
said. “Call me at this number.”
Wyatt wrote his
cell number on the victim’s chart.
*****
Wyatt drove a rented car to the
suburbs of Albany .
“Why Albany
twice?” he asked Tisdale. “April a year ago and last month. Thirteen months
apart. Why?”
Tisdale shook his
head.
“Did his business
not take him to Albany
until recently?” Wyatt asked. “The victims are all up and down the East Coast,
so maybe he is a business traveler as you said. But then why the long layoff?
Is he a snowbird living in Florida during the
winter? If that were the case, he has all the southern states that are warm
during the winter to continue his spree. Why the layoff?”
Tisdale shook his
head.
“You okay?” Wyatt
asked.
Tisdale looked out
the window.
“Do most of your
profiling from a desk?” Wyatt asked.
“Mostly,” Tisdale
said.
“It’s different in
the field,” Wyatt said.
“Yeah.”
“So make an early
guess as to his profile,” Wyatt said.
“He hates call
girls and escorts and he’s not going to stop,” Tisdale said.
“Good guess,”
Wyatt said.
Tisdale looked at
Wyatt and grinned.
“Did you think
about a profile?” Wyatt asked.
“I did,” Tisdale
said. “White male between thirty and forty-five with a possible law enforcement
background. A loner. Socially inadequate. Shy around women. Possibly
homosexually latent. Intelligent, probably has a degree or some college. Also
some medical training, possibly a medic in the Army. Possibly raised by his
mother with little or no interaction from his father. Very set in his ways with
rejection to change. And while intelligent is probably insane.”
“Okay,” Wyatt
said. “Let’s break this down. Why a white male with a possible law enforcement
background?”
“The synthetic
hair fibers found on the scene from a toupee or wig are predominately worn by
white males,” Tisdale said. “A black male wearing that type of wig or toupee
would stick out like a sore thumb even at night. He’d want to blend in, not
cause attention to his appearance.”
“His possible law
enforcement background?” Wyatt asked.
“He knows how to
avoid detection,” Tisdale said. “No fingerprints, DNA. Doesn’t disturb any
unnecessary objects. Shows the restraint and control of a trained law enforcement
professional.”
“The loner,
socially inadequate, possibly homosexual?”
“It fits the
standard of the antisocial, loner serial killer,” Tisdale said. “Until we
locate him there is no evidence that says otherwise. If he’s latent his hatred
for women is fueled by his hatred for himself. That fact that he didn’t have
sex with any of his victims, prior or after shows possible hatred or disgust
for women, especially if he’s latent about his own sexuality.”
“Intelligent?”
“He’s killed
fourteen women across the eastern seaboard and we haven’t got a clue who he
is.”
“Medical
training?”
“He knows how to
cut you open without killing you, at least not right away. If his goal is to
make you suffer, he knows how.”
“Single parent,
probably his mother?”
“No father to
teach him how to be a man. How to act around girls. A strong mother influence
that manifested into a hatred for himself and women in general. Set in his ways
because he hasn’t deviated in the slightest in his MO. Insane, because you have
to be insane to do what he’s doing.”
“What kind of
knots did he tie?” Wyatt asked.
“Knots?”
“The leather
strips, what kind of knots did he use to tie them up?”
Tisdale looked at
Wyatt. “I don’t know.”
“I’ve looked at
the ‘on scene’ photos and it’s impossible to tell. We need to see the
evidence,” Wyatt said.
“It’s being held
in the state police evidence warehouse,” Tisdale said.
“We’ll go there
right after we check the motel room,” Wyatt said.
*****
The Hideaway Motel consisted of twenty-four
rooms in a horseshoe shape just off the interstate highway. On the way in,
Tisdale picked up the room key from the manager on duty.
Wyatt parked in
the lot in front of room number twelve, the victim’s room. He turned off the
engine and sat in the quiet for a moment. Tisdale looked at him.
“Her name was
Joann Simpson and she lived in Albany ,
about fifteen miles from here,” Wyatt said. “But her car was at her apartment
so she was driven here most likely by her killer. Or … she took a cab.”
“The state police
have interviewed her roommate and she said Joann didn’t take her car that
night,” Tisdale. “The roommate works for the same escort service.”
“The manager
stated that Joann rented the room about ten-thirty at night and he never saw
the man,” Wyatt said. “He saw a car, but it was dark and he didn’t see the make
or model. It could have been a private cab.”
“Are you thinking
out loud?” Tisdale asked.
“She pays for the
room and the cab or he drives to number twelve, a distance of about one hundred
and fifty feet from the office,” Wyatt said.
He opened the car
door and got out and Tisdale did the same.
“She has the key
and walks first to the door with him right behind her,” Wyatt said.
Tisdale unlocked
the door and pushed it in and entered. He found the light switch on the wall
and flicked it on.
“The girl always
picks up the key so his face is never seen and his prints are never on the
key,” Wyatt said. “He closes the door with his foot.”
Wyatt placed his
right foot against the door and gave it a shove to close it.
“He waits for
Joann to remove her top before he pulls out a tazer and strikes her in the
abdomen,” Wyatt said. “She falls to the floor or bed. At this point, after
touching nothing in the room, he puts on his rubber gloves and goes to work while
she’s still incapacitated. He knows what he’s doing and works fast. He tapes
her mouth first. Then he ties her hands with the leather strips to the foot on
each side of the bed. Then he removes her slacks and panties and ties her legs
by the ankles the same way. He doesn’t molest her sexually, that isn’t why he’s
here.”
Wyatt stood at the
foot of the bed.
“He takes a moment
to admire his handiwork,” Wyatt said. “He’s pleased.”
Tisdale looked at
Wyatt.
“The girl has
recovered enough and looks at him,” Wyatt said. “She knows she’s in trouble,
but doesn’t know what is about to happen. He takes out the straight razor and
shows it to her. She tries to move, but she can’t. She tries to scream, but she
can’t. Carefully, skillfully, he makes the incision and opens her up. He steps
back and watches for a few moments, careful not to get any blood on him and
then quietly leaves.”
Tisdale exhaled
softly and Wyatt looked at him.
“The parking lot
exit is to the left of room twenty-four, roughly three hundred feet from the
office, so the manager doesn’t see his car leave,” Wyatt said. “A maid doesn’t
discover the body until nine the following morning. The medical examiner’s
report said she died around midnight. Ninety minutes. That’s how long it took
Joann Simpson to die, to watch herself die.”
Tisdale stared at
the bed.
“Forensics said
the bathroom wasn’t used by either,” Wyatt said.
“No.”
“Let’s go look at
the evidence,” Wyatt said.
*****
“I’m thinking a handheld tazer,”
Wyatt said as he and Tisdale were escorted to the evidence warehouse by a state
trooper.
“Up close,
personal, leaves two tiny burn marks,” Wyatt said.
The state trooper
stopped at a cage and unlocked it.
“Need gloves?” he
asked.
“We have, thanks,”
Wyatt said. “What about the evidence from the murder a year ago? Escort killed
the same way.”
“I don’t know
where that is.”
“Find out.”
“Give me a day to
check the books,” the trooper said.
“We’ll be back,”
Wyatt said as the trooper left them alone.
Tisdale lifted the
cardboard box labeled Joann Simpson off a shelf and took it to a table outside
the cage. He and Wyatt put on rubber gloves.
Wyatt removed the
lid. All evidence was wrapped in plastic bags and labeled.
“One pair of black
thong women’s panties,” he said as he removed a bag. “One black lace bra. One
white blouse with buttons. One pair of black designer jeans. One pair of black
designer socks. One pair of black designer shoes. The contents of her pockets
are one driver’s license and one credit card, Visa. No cash.”
Wyatt looked at
Tisdale. “Where is her handbag or purse?”
“Report indicates
none was found on the scene,” Tisdale said.
“She left it in
his car or he took it with him,” Wyatt said.
“Women never leave
their bags in a car,” Tisdale said.
“No they do not,”
Wyatt said. “She used her escort name of Chloe to register for the room, who
made the ID on her?”
“The roommate,”
Tisdale said.
Wyatt lifted the
bag with the four leather strips in it. Two strips had blood on them, two did
not.
“Blood ran down
the bed and wet the strips on her ankles,” Wyatt said. “Police cut the strips,
but didn’t damage the knot. That’s a fisherman’s knot. I recognize it.”
“I don’t fish,”
Tisdale.
“Five wraps into a
loop,” Wyatt said. “It’s used to secure a hook to fishing line. It’s simple but
very strong. The harder a fish pulls on the hook, the tighter the knot
becomes.”
“So if the girl
fights, the knot grows tighter,” Tisdale said.
“It does.”
Wyatt examined the
leather strips.
“It’s going to be
difficult trying to locate the source of these leather strips,” he said. “They’re
used for so many different things. From saddles to Lacrosse sticks. The loops
were tied left handed. I can tell by the way they are wrapped. See how the end
piece sticks out of the loop? It’s reversed if you’re left-handed.”
“A lefty narrows
the field,” Tisdale said.
“It does.”
Tisdale looked at
his watch. “We have time to see the roommate or the case detective,” he said.
“Which?”
“Roommate,” Wyatt
said.
*****
Joann Simpson shared a two-bedroom
apartment in a hi-rise building just outside of Albany . It overlooked a park and small
stream. The rent was fifteen hundred a month of which was shared evenly.
The roommate’s
name was Amy Sinclair and she, like Joann was twenty-seven-years-old and worked
for the same escort service, Midnight Dreams Escorts.
She answered the
door wearing blue jeans and a white tee-shirt. She wore white socks without
shoes. Her reddish hair was in a ponytail and she wore no makeup. Her eyes were
red and swollen from lack of sleep and crying.
Wyatt and Tisdale
showed their ID.
“I’m making
coffee,” Amy said. “Want some?”
Wyatt and Tisdale
followed her to the kitchen where she filled three cups at the table.
“I’m going to
smoke, okay?” Amy said.
“Go ahead,” Wyatt
said.
Amy removed a
cigarette from a pack on the table and lit it with a disposable lighter. “I
told the cops everything I know,” she said.
“I read the
reports,” Wyatt said.
“Then why are you
here?”
“Missing details
and in-betweens,” Wyatt said.
“I don’t know what
that means,” Amy said.
“Let’s start
small,” Wyatt said. “How long did you know Joann?”
“Since high
school.”
“So you know her
pretty well?”
“As well as
anybody I suppose.”
“You were
roommates how long?”
“In college for two
years and then five years, the last two here.”
“What did you go
to college for?”
“Accounting. So did
Joann.”
“Graduate?”
“We did.”
“How did you wind
up as escorts for the Midnight Dreams Escort Services?” Wyatt asked.
“Ever try to exist
on four hundred dollars take home a week?”
“That doesn’t
answer my question,” Wyatt said.
Amy sucked on the
cigarette and blew smoke. “We were living in a roach invested apartment in Troy about five years ago.
We could barely buy food after paying the rent. Anyway, we were at the mall in Albany and bumped into an
old friend of ours. She’s decked out in really expensive clothes and drives a
Lexus. Know what a Lexus costs?”
“I do.”
“She took us for
coffee and told us she worked for this escort service,” Amy said. “She said she
made two grand a week for less than six hours work. She wanted to introduce us
to the owner of the service. I guess we were tired of working fifty hours a
week and starving, so we went.”
“The owner’s name
is?”
“It’s in the
report.”
“I know.”
“Sylvia. Sylvia Ross.”
“Joann was found
with just her driver’s license on Visa card,” Wyatt said. “No pocketbook or
purse or cash.”
Amy nodded. “When
we meet a client we carry as little as possible and never cash.”
“She didn’t drive
herself,” Wyatt said.
“No, we never do.”
“How do you meet
the client?”
“We take a cab to
a prearranged location,” Amy said. “We pay the fare by credit card and keep
exact expense reports. If the client is an overnighter, we cab it back in the
morning. If it’s a short date, we sometimes have the cab wait and pay extra.”
“What’s your time
worth?” Wyatt asked.
“Off the clock or
on?”
“Both.”
“On the clock is a
businessman needs an escort for the evening for a formal affair,” Amy said. “Five
hundred for four hours. We dress nice, hang on his arm and make him look good
to his associates. Albany is like a mini Washington , a lot of
political affairs and dinners. We’re in high demand for affairs like that.”
Wyatt nodded. “And
the flip side?”
“That’s the bread
and butter,” Amy said. “The date is arranged through Sylvia like the others and
we negotiate with the client for his ‘extra activities.’ Joann’s date was
supposed to be a one hour affair. Straight up five hundred dollars. Extra for
‘special requests.’”
“What is a
‘special request’?” Tisdale asked.
Amy crushed her
cigarette out in an ashtray and lit another. “Are you for real?” she said.
“I think what
Agent Tisdale means is what do you charge for ‘special requests’, Wyatt said.
“We’re trying to determine Joann’s attacker’s means.”
Amy blew smoke and
nodded. “Two hundred and fifty extra if he wants us to swallow,” she said.
“Five hundred extra for anal. Just a mere hundred is he wants to be peed on,
but two fifty is he wants to pee on us. You don’t want to know what we do with
ice cubes. Get the idea Agent Tisdale?”
Tisdale nodded.
“Joann told you
her date that night was just for one hour?” Wyatt asked.
“She called the
cab and told me she’d be back in a few hours,” Amy said. “That means a one hour
date.”
“When she didn’t
come home in a few hours, were you worried?” Wyatt asked.
“I went to bed
around eleven,” Amy said. “I didn’t know she didn’t come home until the next
morning. Even then her date could have turned into an all nighter. It was when
the police called I found out she was … dead.”
“The report said
you identified her body?” Wyatt said. “What about her family?”
“Her father died a
few years back and her mother lives in Florida ,”
Amy said. “I understand she’s had a total breakdown.”
“Was her date a
repeat customer?” Wyatt asked.
“You’d have to ask
Sylvia that one.”
“Do you ever
arrange your own dates?”
“Never. Are you
crazy? Sylvia screens all dates to make sure they are safe,” Amy said.
“She missed one,”
Wyatt said.
Amy lowered her
eyes for a moment.
“Thanks for your
time,” Wyatt said.
“Wait. Jo was my
best friend. We were like sisters. This can’t end like this. You will catch
this bastard, won’t you?” Amy said.
“We’ll catch him,”
Wyatt said.
“Cut his dick off
when you do,” Amy said.
*****
“I need a shower after that
interview,” Tisdale said.
“I’ve had worse,”
Wyatt said. “Bring a change of suits?”
“I did.”
“Let’s go back to
the hotel and change,” Wyatt said. “The governor hates for his guests to be
late.”
Chapter Six
Wyatt sat in a chair beside the bed
and watched Lo-Lo get ready. She had spent the day in the hotel spa and had a
massage and her nails and hair done. Her hair was worn up in an elegant swirl
and her nails were a toned down pink.
After slipping
into white tong panties, she peeled off paper stick-on support bras and placed
one across each breast.
“What in the world
is that?” Wyatt asked.
“Stick on bras,”
Lo-Lo said. “So there are no bra strap lines under my gown.”
Lo-Lo picked up
the blue gown from the bed and delicately stepped into it. “Zip me up, hon,”
she said.
Wyatt stood and
went behind her and placed his right hand inside the gown and kissed the back
of her neck.
“Funny, I didn’t think
I said come here and feel me up like kids at a drive-in,” Lo-Lo said.
“Can’t help it,”
Wyatt said. “The stick on bra did me in.”
“Zip it and that
means you too,” Lo-Lo said.
Wyatt zipped up
the gown and Lo-Lo put on the blue four-inch-high heels.
“I’ve never met a
governor before,” she said. “I’m kind of nervous.”
“Don’t be,” Wyatt
said. “If anything, you’ll make him nervous.”
“Where’s Bo?”
“Lobby.”
*****
“My God,” Tisdale said when Wyatt
and Lo-Lo got off the elevator in the lobby.
“I assume that ‘My
God’ wasn’t directed at me,” Wyatt said.
“Man, I don’t even
see you,” Tisdale said.
“Shall we go,”
Wyatt said.
*****
Escorted into the Governor’s
Mansion by two state troopers, Wyatt, Lo-Lo and Tisdale waited in the large
reception room for the governor.
They didn’t have
to wait long. Within minutes the door opened and Governor Jack Curtis and his
wife Linda strolled in holding hands. Curtis, a tall, thin black man of sixty with
a handsome face and graying hair smiled at Wyatt.
“Duncan Wyatt,” Curtis
said.
“Lucy Raymond, my
intended and Agent Bo Tisdale, Governor Jack Curtis and his wife Linda,” Wyatt
said. “Jack has managed to pull off a minor miracle in that he’s the first
registered Independent black Governor of New York State.”
Curtis, eye level
with Lo-Lo said, “My good Lord.”
“Jack, shake hands
with Wyatt before you step on your tongue,” Linda said.
