The Brass Ring (29 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

C
C RUBBED HER temples as Wayne explained his findings in great length. "In English please, Wayne," she pleaded wearily, tired of his long dissertation on how he had compiled everything and the computer jargon. Of course, he felt a need to explain all the terms to her in great detail. "I just want to know who was parked where and when they left the garage?" she implored him.

"I made you a chart," he said sheepishly as he peered over his thick black plastic-framed glasses.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation as he handed her a very detailed chart showing who was parked where and when they punched out of the garage. She bit back the urge to spew a litany of harsh comments at the little man who definitely needed to spend more time outside of his tiny lab. "Thank you," she said sweetly as a blush spread from his neck up to what was left of his hairline.

She peered at the chart and was instantly surprised that the car parked next to Sandra’s was not Dr. Fisher’s. But his BMW had been parked a few cars down. The vehicle in question belonged to an Ellen Murdock who, according to Wayne’s efforts, exited the garage exactly one minute prior to Dr. Fisher. "Now that is interesting," she mumbled. "Wayne, I need a print out from the DMV for Ellen Murdock."

"Way ahead of you." Wayne beamed proudly as he shuffled through his stacks of paperwork and handed her the requested item.

CC smiled as he proudly handed her a sheet of paper that contained Ellen’s address, date of birth, height, and anything thing else she would require. Her smile vanished and her heart lurched when she looked at Ellen’s picture. The woman bore a stronger resemblance to Jamie than Sandra did. "I don’t like this." She gulped.

She placed the sheet down and steadied her nerves. "Okay, what about the background checks?" Her voice shook slightly as she addressed Wayne.

"Nothing outstanding," Wayne explained quickly. "The usual misdemeanors, domestic violence, parking tickets and so on. But I did do a nationwide scan since Boylston is a teaching hospital and people come from all over the country. I stumbled across something that I think you might be interested in," he explained as he handed a stack of printouts to her. "This one," he explained as he handed over a single report that he had carefully separated from the rest. "It kind of stuck out."

CC scanned the computer printout and felt her heart stutter in fear. To the naked eye it appeared to be nothing, the charges had been dropped. But it was who it was for that peeked CC’s interest. "What time is it in San Diego?" she inquired absently.

"Just after nine a.m. They’re three hours behind us," Wayne answered. "Here’s the number."

"Good call, Wayne," CC praised the smaller man. "Assault charges. Interesting, Dr. Fisher."

CC quickly began to dial the telephone. After jumping through hoops to get authorization to make the long distance call, she was patched through. She said a silent prayer that someone involved with the case was available on Sunday morning so she wouldn’t need to call back. After a series of transfers she was greeted by a gruff voice that sounded as if it had been exposed to unfiltered cigarettes for far too many years.

"Detective Brooks?" CC began cheerfully. "This is Detective Calloway from Boylston Mass. If you have a few moments, I’d like to ask you a few questions regarding an old case of yours."

"Anything to help out, despite what the Sox just did to our boys," he teased with a heavy cough.

"Oh, you can’t blame us for the shape the Padres are in," CC countered. The man coughed while he laughed once again.
‘Jesus, Dude! You really need to quit smoking before you cough up a lung,’
CC noted in disgust. "It’s an assault case from six years ago . . . ." she began carefully.

"Jesus H. Christ," he barked in anger. CC wasn’t surprised by the reaction. "How the hell am I supposed to remember that?"

"Let’s give it a shot," CC encouraged him dryly. "The victim was a Marylyn Steiner. . ."

"I remember," he cut her off in a grave tone.

"Why?" CC asked as her voice trembled.

"She’s dead," he explained in a pained voice. "There was another girl as well. I know who did it; I just couldn’t prove anything. The little bastard weaseled out of it. I never had a thing on him. Now he’s going to be a doctor and two girls that I know of are dead. The initial assault wasn’t really anything. The guy wanted to date Marylyn and he grabbed her roughly by the arm. She dropped the charges. It was just that she looked so much like the first victim; I couldn’t get past it. A couple of weeks later Marylyn turned up dead."

"How?" CC asked as her mouth went dry and her heart started pounding urgently in her chest.

"A combination of blunt force trauma to the head and manual strangulation," he explained quickly as if he had just witnessed the crime scene.

"Sexual assault?" CC continued, praying that she was wrong.

"No," he responded in a painful tone. "But he tried. No penetration or semen. Tell me, Detective Calloway, why the sudden interest in an old case so far away?" he asked wearily.

"I have a victim that matches the same M.O.," CC responded as she fought the bile rising in her throat.

"Blonde, short, with blue or green eyes?" he pressed in a disgusted voice.

"Yes," CC answered flatly.

"Was Simon Fisher in the area?" he asked in an excited tone.

"Yes," she responded gravely. "Tell me something. With either Marylyn or Natalie, did he give the impression that he had a relationship with either woman?"

"Marylyn," he confirmed. "When she first came to us, he copped an attitude that it was just a lover’s spat. He was very convincing but I just had a feeling. When Marylyn explained that she had never had so much as a cup of coffee with the guy, I knew that there was something wrong that boy."

The way his words eerily echoed Max’s made her shiver. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Can you send me . . ."

"I’ll FedEx copies of everything out to you right now," he cut her off. "Calloway, could you keep me updated? I’ll fly out there if you need me. I’ve got a ton of vacation time and I would love to see this guy get what he deserves. "

"I’ll let you know everything," CC promised.

"One more thing you should know," he cautioned her. "His parents have more money than God and they’ve bounced him from one private school to another. They made it very difficult for us to investigate him."

"Are they on the West Coast?" CC inquired.

"One of the first families here in San Diego," he explained; she could almost hear the smile in his voice.

"Good." She gave him the address he could send the information before promising to send copies of her case files as well.

CC worked with Wayne a little while longer, knowing that she had to investigate every possibility before completely focusing on Fisher. Then she made her way down to the Forensics lab downtown. Corey McDowell wanted to speak to her. CC was more than a little curious as to why he needed to see her in person.

"Corey," she called out as she wandered through the cool room. The older African American man looked up from the microscope and simply stared at her with indifference. "Calloway," he greeted her dryly.

"Okay, Sparky. Tell me what’s so important that I have to haul my butt down here on a Sunday," she pressed, feeling a need to go home and be close to Jamie. She didn’t like what she heard today and the last thing she wanted was for the blonde to be out of her sight for even a moment.

"Good afternoon to you as well," he continued in the same dry fashion.

"Corey, your report didn’t show any prints or blood in the victims car or at the garage," CC continued, ignoring his banter.

"Did you bring me anything?" he taunted her.

"No," she lied with a wry smile as she hid the bag of brownies from Rosie’s Bakery behind her back. Corey had an incurable sweet tooth. He also had a wife that was very concerned about his health. CC learned early on that Corey would move mountains for any cop that would smuggle him some goodies.

"Hmm," he responded thoughtfully as he turned his attention back to his microscope.

"Well . . ." CC hedged playfully. "I might have a little something."

A smile formed on the older man’s face as he returned his attention to the tall policewoman. "No donuts," he cautioned her. "For this I want something good." She smiled as she pulled the white paper bag out from behind her back. "Rosie’s," he responded as he nodded his approval. CC handed him the bag. He peered in carefully and nodded his acceptance of her offering.

"Now what do I get?" she pressed. "Besides a warning not to tell your wife that I helped feed your sugar high."

"Your neighbor’s window," he began in his slow fashion. Corey was a brilliant scientist; he loved to savor his work and he took his time revealing his discoveries. CC had learned a long time ago to simply allow the man to proceed at his own pace.

"Yes?" she said with interest as the man took a bite of one of the rich chocolate brownies. She watched with some degree of amusement as the man’s eyes fluttered shut. She allowed him to savor his treat a little while longer.

"At first I was curious as to why I was doing work on a vandalism case," he continued thoughtfully. "Then I found traces of blood on the glass."

"What?" she blurted out.

"I spoke with one of the officers who was on the scene and he assured me that no one had been cut," he continued slowly, ignoring her outburst.

"No, nobody was hurt at the scene," she confirmed.

"I’ve been hearing through the grapevine that your neighbor worked with the victim who was dumped in the park," he continued, his eyes growing slightly dim as he spoke. "And she bears a certain resemblance to Sandra Bernstein."

"Yes," CC choked out.

"I had Roget do some tests," he continued thoughtfully. CC could hear a hint of discomfort in his voice and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"And just what did our blood expert find?" CC pushed as the gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach grew.

"On a hunch, I had him run some DNA tests," Corey explained. "The blood was Sandra Bernstein’s."

CC’s body swayed slightly and she grasped the end of the metal table to steady herself. "You didn’t by any chance find the object used to break the window?" he inquired hopefully.

"No," CC choked out, fighting the urge to throw up.

"I’m almost certain that whatever was used to break that window was also used to crush your victim’s skull," he concluded gravely. "Here’s the report."

CC thanked him as she accepted the report. She ran out of the building, ducking quickly through the maze of corridors until she found herself outside. She barely made it around the corner of the building before emptying the contents of her stomach. As she wiped her mouth, she was thankful that it was Sunday afternoon and no one was around to see her lose her composure. She flipped open her cell phone and dialed the number she knew from memory quickly. "Max, we need to talk," CC said.

CHAPTER THRITY-NINE

J
AMIE LOOKED AROUND Harvard Square anxiously. She loved the weather; unfortunately so did everyone else and the popular spot was overloaded with tourists. She also noted a number of students wandering about aimlessly with a blank expression. "Oh yes, it’s time for finals." She chuckled as she recalled the days when she survived on nothing but caffeine and determination. "I don’t miss those days," she commented wryly.

"And what days are those, blondie?" a friendly voice from her past mocked.

"Becky," she squealed like a schoolgirl as she spun around to greet her old friend.

The two women hugged one another tightly before Becky stepped back and took a good look at Jamie. "First, shame on you for taking so long getting together with me," she scolded Jamie who simply shrugged in response. "I was plotting to injure Frank just so I could see you at work."

"You’d wound your poor husband just to see me?" Jamie inquired with a smirk. "I’m touched."

"Come on. Let’s get some food, and more importantly, margaritas," Becky offered quickly as she linked her arm in Jamie’s and ushered her down Church Street.

Once they were settled at a table in the noisy Mexican restaurant, they dipped their chips in the rich salsa while sipping their margaritas. "So tell me everything you’ve been up to, including that glow you’re sporting," Becky demanded as Jamie blushed. "Uh huh, so you’re still a wanton woman these days? I never thought I’d see my little virgin turn into such a player."

"Well . . ." Jamie began shyly, knowing that once she told Becky the truth the woman was going to freak out. "I’m seeing someone."

"As in a steady relationship?" Becky choked on her cocktail before clapping her hands together. "It’s about time. Of course, after what that bitch put you through I can certainly understand being gun shy."

"Well . . . uhm," Jamie stammered.

"Tell me everything about her," Becky demanded.

"She’s a cop," Jamie offered carefully.

"I never thought you’d go out with another cop after what CC put you through," Becky responded in surprise. "She must be very special."

"She is," Jamie responded proudly.

Becky gave her an expectant look, obviously waiting for more details. Jamie licked her lips and took another sip of her drink. "Come on, Jamie," Becky pleaded. "Tell me everything. Well, not everything but you know . . . everything!"

"You need to spend more time with adults," Jamie teased the schoolteacher.

"And you’re stalling," Becky pressed. "What’s wrong with her?"

"Not a thing." Jamie almost purred as she spoke. "Okay. Well, she’s tall, almost six feet tall, and she has long dark hair and the most amazing blue eyes that I’ve ever seen in my entire life." Jamie felt a tingle of excitement as she described her lover.

Becky stared at her blankly as she processed the information. "Uhm . . . Jamie, she sounds a lot like CC," she said hesitantly. "Are you sure that wasn’t the attraction? Not meaning to rain on your parade, but . . ."