IF I FAIL: A Jake Carrington Mystery Read online

  “Sophia, go easy on Louie, please.”

  “Just eat, Jake. You’re staying here tonight.”

  “Don’t you think Louie’s going to be upset? I didn’t know I turned you on, Sophia.” Laughing, he put his hands up to avoid her slap.

  “You idiot! You’re on the couch, Louie’s in the bed. Or maybe I should make him sleep on the couch too.”

  Louie lifted his head from the table. “I’m home, when’s dinner?” he asked, banging his head on the table.

  “He’s going to have quite a bump on his hard head tomorrow. Help me get him upstairs, Jake. He’s gone.”

  “Sophia, we don’t do this often, you know.”

  “I know, Jake, but that’s not the point. I’m not used to the two of you like this. What were you thinking, drinking on empty stomachs? We’ll talk later. Now let’s do this quietly. The kids are doing their homework in their rooms. I don’t want them to see him, or you, in this condition.” She shook her head.

  Louie wrapped his arm around Sophia’s waist as they headed upstairs. “You know I love you, more than anything.” He’s getting sloppy, Jake thought, not helping his case.

  “Yes, Louie, I know.”

  “Want to make love?”

  “You’re a piece of work, Louie. Yes, but not now. You’re going to bed, to sleep only. So walk.”

  “You sure? I’m really good in the sack and you’re…”

  She cut him off.

  Jake couldn’t help himself; he doubled over, laughing.

  “What are you laughing at? Be quiet.” She shook her head. “Idiots.”

  Jake kept his mouth shut. After helping to put Louie to bed, he went to the study. Once on the couch, he passed out immediately.

  *

  Jake woke, disoriented, at six a.m. to the grey dawn casting shadows around the room. Trying to sit up, he crashed back down when a million tiny lights exploded in his head. His whole body ached. He knew better than to complain about the lumpy couch. He tried one more time to sit up without his head exploding—jumping when four sets of eyes greeted him. Where the hell was he?

  “How come you’re here, Uncle Jake?” Marisa asked.

  “Hi! I had a late night with your father so I slept here instead of going home.”

  He started to remember. He slept in Louie’s den last night. Christ, his head hurt. Good thing the drapes were still drawn on most of the other windows, otherwise he’d go blind.

  “It wouldn’t have anything to do with you and Daddy drinking would it?” she asked.

  “Now, Marisa, why do you ask such questions?” Why couldn’t they leave him alone? They’d left the door to the den open. He heard Sophia banging dishes around in the kitchen. Jake wondered if she banged them on purpose. With each clash, his head felt as though a snare-drum vibrated through his skull.

  “Mom thinks we’re stupid. I heard you guys come in last night. You were really funny, though Mom didn’t think so,” she continued.

  “Come on, Marisa. Leave him alone, Uncle Jake looks sick,” Carmen said.

  “Thanks, Carmen. I could use another hour. Why aren’t you guys in school?”

  “Because it’s only six o’clock in the morning, school doesn’t start for another two hours. We always come down for breakfast at this time.” As with any thirteen-year-old, she changed the subject to herself. “Uncle Jake, you’re coming to my birthday party, right?”

  “When have I ever missed one, Marisa?” He realized there’d be no more sleep here today.

  “You guys missed the year the guy cut up those college girls, remember?” Marisa looked at him.

  “Marisa, you know work comes first. I’ll be at your party, as long as work doesn’t interfere. You know that, you’re a cop’s kid.”

  “Yeah, I know. You know my girlfriend Gigi thinks you’re cute?”

  “What kind of name is Gigi?”

  “It’s a great name.”

  Jake needed to move them along. “I’ve got to get going, so why don’t you guys go into the kitchen? Get breakfast or whatever you do at six o’clock in the morning so I can get up.”

  “Carmen, go to the kitchen, I want to talk to Uncle Jake,” Marisa said, ignoring Carmen’s refusal to leave. “Go now, Carmen, or I’ll hurt you.”

  “Oh, all right. You know, Marisa, I’m stronger than you. I just don’t fight women,” Carmen said before leaving the room.

  “You really should be nicer to him, Marisa. You know someday he’s going to be much bigger than you.”

  “I really have to talk to you alone, Uncle Jake. I need you to talk with my parents about me going to this party on Friday. It’s really, really important. Anyone who counts is going to be there. I know they’ll listen to you. Please?” she pleaded.

  “Marisa, I already know about the party. The kid’s parents won’t be there. I agree with your parents on this one. You’re just asking for trouble with no adults there. Plus, I’m not at the top of your mother’s good list right now.” He rubbed his aching forehead.

  “So, your answer is no? I thought you loved me,” she whined.

  “I do, I’m just not talking to them about this. Maybe I should let this kid’s parents know he’s planning on having a wild party while they’re away.” He studied her.

  “You can’t, Uncle Jake. Promise me you won’t. I wouldn’t be able to show my face in school ever again. Please promise?” Marisa begged.

  “I’ll think about it, now scram.”

  Sophia walked into the room.

  “Aren’t you mean first thing in the morning? How do you feel today?”

  “Crowded.”

  Chapter Three

  After leaving Louie’s house, Jake went home, showered, and changed his clothes before heading to the station. He stepped into the squad room, smiling, as he took a look around. No one looked good except the captain. He picked up his murder book on Shanna Wagner again and started where he left off the day before.

  “Hey, Lieutenant, you left early last night,” Burke said.

  “Yep, I left for a special dinner engagement. She served homemade pasta and sauce with homemade bread. Who could pass that up?” Burke looked ill. “She also served homemade tiramisu. The best I’ve ever tasted. I enjoyed two helpings.” Jake grinned.

  “God, don’t talk food right now, it could get messy. Got any Rolaids or Tums?”

  “Amateurs,” Jake said, going back to his file.

  The evidence was the evidence was the evidence, Jake thought. He’d read this file on and off for the last year—nothing ever popped out. He felt they’d missed some important fact. He decided to start right from the very beginning, treating it like a fresh crime, everyone a suspect. Starting with the crime scene photos first, he laid them out on his desk. They were graphic—every insult, every trauma Shanna received prominently displayed.

  Kids discovered her body in the woods at the end of a cul-de-sac of a new housing development in different stages of completion. None of the houses were occupied at the time. The body, left naked, landed face up. Her clothes were never found, nor the item used to strangle her. There were deep ligature marks around her neck. It appeared to be a sexual assault—bruising in and around the genitals. The ME thought the rape was committed with a long hard stick, not a man’s penis, due to the severity of the bruising. No semen found in or around the body. The killer used protection, if he did penetrate her. Thrown, not placed, Jake thought. She’d been in the field about four days according to the ME. There were no fibers under her nails. The scratches on the torso and the face were probably from being rolled down the short embankment. Trace didn’t find any skin or hair other than the victim’s. Fibers found on the body were consistent with the clothing she wore last. No jewelry left on the victim, a fact which always bothered Jake. He didn’t know if the killer was trying to make it look like a robbery gone bad, or if he tried to remove her identity, leaving her with nothing.

  Pulling out his notebook, Jake wrote down new questions. A crime of passion or jealo
usy? Who would remove a person’s identity? Why? To delay identification? To humiliate? One killer or two killers? He always assumed one. Why not dump her further into the field to make it more difficult to find her? Killer not strong enough to carry her further? We should recheck pawn shops for the jewelry, Jake thought. Did the killer(s) keep the jewelry as a souvenir, especially the ring?

  A family treasure passed down from grandmother to granddaughter, Shanna never took it off—an emerald ring surrounded by diamonds. Valued at fifty thousand dollars, it certainly provided motive. She also wore a gold cross with a diamond in the center, and a name bracelet her sister Chloe gave her; she varied her earrings. Ask Mrs. Wagner if Chloe got anything from her grandmother? If so, what piece of jewelry did she receive?

  Re-do the timeline of each family member at the time of the murder. Did Shanna and Chloe fight often? Two sisters, close in age, each unique; not only in looks, but in personalities, friends, and interests. Did they hang out together? Did their friend’s crises cross? Did they dip into the same dating pool? Lost in thought when the captain called him into his office.

  “Tag Louie, there’s a body in the trunk of a car at the Chevy dealer off exit 26,” McGuire said.

  “Okay, I don’t think Louie’ll be in great shape,” Jake replied.

  “No one in this squad is. How late did you guys stay out last night?”

  “To be honest, I don’t know. I know Louie and I got driven home by a uniform. Sophia’s pissed. I mean really pissed. She cooked dinner and we didn’t show up. I stayed on their couch.”

  “Really. Get him and secure the scene. Here’s a list of missing persons, see who fits the description of the person in the trunk,” McGuire finished, dismissing Jake.

  “Is it a man or a woman?” Jake asked.

  “We don’t have any other information. The salesman’s on the lot throwing up. The sales manager didn’t get much more out of him. He smelled something foul when he showed a customer a car, and followed his nose. The trunk wasn’t closed. He lifted it higher, looked inside, and lost his lunch. I hope not on the body. That’s all we know right now. Call me when you know something.”

  “Okay, Cap.” Jake put his files away and left. On the way, he called Louie.

  “Hey, how do you feel?”

  “Like death warmed over. Unfortunately, I’ll live. I hope you’re calling me about a case, because I have to get out of here. Sophia’s giving me a rough time today.”

  “Yeah, we caught a new case. Meet me at the Chevy dealer off exit 26. I’m on my way. We should get there at about the same time. You gonna be okay? I don’t need you sick when you get there.”

  “When have I ever been sick on a scene, Jake? Give me a break. What—you gonna bust my balls too?” Louie sounded annoyed.

  Jake ignored him and hung up.

  He pulled into the car lot and parked by a group of guys standing around with their hands in their pockets. Jake figured he’d found the crime scene. He got out and walked over to them, pulling his jacket back and exposing his shield.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen, I’m Lieutenant Carrington.” Such a nice ring, Jake thought. He looked up when someone called him by name.

  “Hey, Jake, over here.”

  Kevin Myers. Jake had known him since high school. “Hi Kevin, what’s up? You find the body?”

  “No. Michael Murphy did.” Kevin motioned to a guy standing alone. He did look pale, Jake thought. “Michael, this is Lieutenant Carrington.”

  “I don’t have to go back over there, do I?” Murphy’s first question.

  “No, you don’t. Tell me what you saw and if you touched anything.”

  “I…something smelled foul. My customers thought the smell came from the car we were looking at. I assured them it didn’t. I walked around a little to see if I could find out where the smell originated. I saw this car with the trunk half-way open. The closer I got, the more obvious it was that the smell came from this car. So I pushed up the trunk. Wham! Right between the eyes. The stench almost knocked me out. I didn’t see the body at first. I turned back to the trunk after I grabbed my handkerchief—I couldn’t believe my eyes. A dead woman crammed into the trunk. I’m sorry, I threw up right there. Not in the car, on the ground.” Jake stepped away a little when it looked like he might lose it again.

  “Okay, Michael, if I think of any more questions, I’ll let you know. My partner, Detective Romanelli, will take your statement when he arrives. Why don’t you wait over there?” Jake pointed to the last row of cars and turned to Kevin. “Can you show me the car? Does it belong on the lot?” Jake questioned Kevin.

  “No. It’s not one of ours, though it’s parked between two of our cars.”

  “This is the first time someone noticed the car?” Jake looked at Kevin.

  “I really can’t say. I know I didn’t notice it. I’ll ask the other salesmen if they did,” Kevin offered.

  “No, don’t, Kevin. My partner or I’ll ask them. Thanks for your help. This one?” Jake pointed, as he walked up to the car. No mistake, he thought, the smell alone gave it away. His stomach did the wave. Jake never got used to the smell of death. Anyone who said they did lied, in his opinion. Hands down it was the foulest odor on this earth. Once you smelled it, you never confused it with anything else.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, thanks. Kevin, please go on over to the other salespeople. I’ll get back to you in a little while.” Jake dismissed him.

  Murphy had it right, it did smell. The body must have been in the trunk for a while. Someone tapped Jake on the shoulder. Annoyed, thinking Myers had come back, he looked up, ready to dismiss him again and saw Louie struggling to maintain.

  “Man, this is not what I needed today,” Louie said, covering his mouth.

  “I don’t think she needed this either.” He handed Louie his bottle of Noxzema. Louie declined it.

  “I don’t know what would be worse today, the Noxzema or the body.”

  They went to work. Louie took the pictures, Jake dusted the trunk for fingerprints. Louie bagged the items around the car. Jake bagged her hands, her feet, all the contents of the trunk, and marked the evidence bags. They worked quietly, both absorbed in their individual tasks. Waiting for the ME to arrive, Jake called in the license plate number and the make of the car. He copied down the VIN hoping it appeared on a stolen vehicle list. The victim looked to be in her fifties: brown hair, brown eyes; hard to tell height and weight at this angle. The eyes held the death stare. Death not only steals the rest of your life, it leaches the color from your eyes and skin. A hole in her forehead, mostly likely the cause of death, Jake thought. He leaned in closer to study the bullet wound. A brownish orange “tattooing” marred the skin around the wound. Jake knew the mark resulted when a weapon fired from a slight distance drove the gun powder into the skin. Not all the powder burned. The shooter couldn’t have been more than three feet away from the victim. Someone she knew, he thought. He’d have to wait for the ME for more information. He’d fingerprint her again at the morgue in Farmington.

  All autopsies for the state, on suspicious deaths, were performed at the UConn Medical Center. The best in the country, in Jake’s opinion. They did have a missing person report on a fifty-three-year-old woman, last seen a week ago. They would start locally; if they didn’t get a hit, they’d expand the search to statewide.

  Looking up, Jake watched the assistant ME approach him. “Hey, McKay,” Jake said.

  Tim McKay, MD, ME, stood five-ten, and weighed in around a hundred-seventy, with a little belly. At fifty-six, time had thinned McKay’s hair, stripping his natural color out and leaving behind more salt than pepper. McKay didn’t seem to notice the change.

  “I hear you’re having a busy week, Jake. Second body, isn’t it? Oh, I also hear congratulations are in order, Lieutenant.” He exaggerated the title.

  “Thanks, Tim, I’m still getting used to it. Yes, the second one this week. She’s all yours. We bagged the hands and the feet, took a c
ouple of samples. Once you transport her, I’ll have the car taken in. I want the lab working on it while you work on her.”

  “Okay, let me get started.”

  “Will do, let me know if there’s an exit wound, if you can.”

  Jake liked the ME. He handled each victim methodically, gently, and respectfully. Jake read his notes and surveyed the scene while he waited for McKay to finish with what he could do at the scene. This place would have been deserted at night—not many people around. Clever killer.

  “I’ll let you know who’s posting. I’ll need a couple of hours before I can give you my initial report. I’ll give you a call when we finish posting,” Doc finished up.

  “Thanks, Doc. If you can run the fingerprints first for an ID, I’d appreciate it. I’ll talk to you later.” Jake headed back to the sales personnel to question them.

  “Thanks for waiting,” Jake addressed the group. “We’re going to divide you into two groups. Half with my partner, Detective Romanelli, the others with me. I’m Lieutenant Carrington.”

  They each interviewed five salespeople. Michael Murphy who found the body, Kevin Myers, Craig Nelson, Jimmy Jackson, and Michelle Williams all went with Jake. He started with Michelle Williams.

  “Hi, Ms. Williams,” Jake said.

  “I don’t know anything.” She appeared nervous. Crimes scenes tended to get people talking. It made even the most honest people antsy.

  “Relax, Ms. Williams, this won’t take long. I’ll just take a statement from you. Ask you a couple of questions for now. If I need more after I check out your answers, I’ll contact you here and do a follow-up interview with you later on, okay?”

  “Yes. I don’t know how I can help you. I never saw the car, or smelled anything. I’ve been on for about three hours now. No customers today so I didn’t have any reason to come out here,” Michelle rambled. A fast talker, Jake thought. “I won’t have to go back there, will I?”

  “No. When we identify the victim, one of us will bring a picture of her here. See if anyone recognizes her.”