Mariah Stewart - Cold Truth

“Did you tell this to Detective Burke?”

“No. She was on the phone, and I was so startled, I just backed out of her office. It’s taken me a few minutes to collect my thoughts. I could be wrong.” Her eyes misted, and her hands, he realized, were shaking.

He pushed the button for Cass’s extension. “Burke, I need you to come in here. Now.”

Cass appeared in the doorway in less than a minute.

“Is something wrong?” She studied his face. “Please tell me there hasn’t been another body…”

“No. But Phyl thinks she knows who our lady of the morning is.”

“I think she’s the manicurist at the Red Rose. Lisa something. I could be wrong, Detective. God, I hope I’m wrong. But I saw the pictures on your desk. I didn’t mean to, I just came in to bring you a phone message that had been put in the chief’s box by mistake. And the pictures were there, right on your desk…”

“I’m so sorry you had to see them, Phyl. They weren’t pretty. And it must have been a shock, once you realized that you might recognize the woman.”

“It was. It still is.” To steady herself, give her hands something to do, Phyl took a sip of Diet Pepsi. “I can call down there, to the Red Rose, if you want. I’ll see if she’s there…”

“No, no. I’ll do that.” Cass glanced at the chief. “I’ll do that right now, and I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.”

“Do it.” Denver nodded. “Do it right away.”

“I’m on it.” Cass disappeared through the doorway.

“And then there are all those reporters. The sergeant on the front desk is getting a little rattled. Everyone wants to know what’s going on,” Phyl said as if to prod him.

“I’ll come out and speak with them. Not much I can say, though.”

He rubbed his chin and wished he had taken more time to shave this morning. He knew he’d be appearing on the six and eleven o’clock news all across the state, with a serious five o’clock shadow.

“Chief, Chief!”

“Chief Denver, is it true there’s a serial killer in Bowers Inlet?”

“Chief Denver! Chief Denver…!”

The crowd of reporters pushed forward the minute Denver started down the hall toward the lobby. It was as if they had smelled him. They moved en masse, and he held up both hands to stop them in their tracks and quiet them.

“Okay, let’s just settle down here,” he said, feeling like a first-grade teacher. “Everyone take six big steps back, please. Spread out a little, give yourselves some space, for crying out loud.”

The crowd did as they were told, then raised their hands and waited to be called on.

Yep, Denver thought. Just like grade school.

“Okay, let me first say that, yes, there have been two murders this week here in Bowers Inlet. Both victims were women in their thirties-the second victim hasn’t been identified as yet, but appears to be of an age similar to Linda Roman, who as you all know was thirty-one.”

“Were both women killed in the same manner?” someone called out.

“I’ll need to see the medical examiner’s report on the second victim before I can answer that,” the chief replied.

“I’ve heard that both women were very similar in physical appearance-young, pretty, with long dark hair.”

“I can confirm that, yes.”

“Is the killer typing his victims, then?” a dark-haired woman in the back asked, a tinge of apprehension in her voice.

“I’d be looking for a red wig if I were you, Dana,” someone called across the room to her, and there was a scatter of nervous laughter.

“We don’t know about that,” Denver said. “I wouldn’t make any assumptions just yet. For all we know, the killer had some connection to both women.”

“So you think the same person killed both women.” It wasn’t a question.

“The evidence is still being analyzed.”

“Can we get details on the investigations?”

“I’ll have a report available to you by six.” Denver glanced up at the clock. That would give him almost two hours to decide what to release. “You can wait around for it, or you can leave your name and fax number, and we’ll fax the report to you.”

“Why can’t you just tell us what you have?”

“I don’t have a whole lot yet. I’m still waiting for the reports from the lab and the medical examiner’s office. I was just about to sit down with my detectives and go over this with them, when you all showed up. I thought I’d deal with you first, let you know we’re working on getting something together for you so that you can all meet your deadlines. I don’t want to give you incomplete information, so if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to return to that meeting.”

Denver smiled perfunctorily and started back to his office.

“Chief Denver, how many victims do you need to have to consider this the work of a serial killer?”

The chief stopped in mid-stride and turned around slowly.

“I think it’s a little early to start throwing around terms like that. I also think it’s irresponsible, frankly, since you’ll only serve to panic our residents, who are already upset enough.”

“But how many, Chief?” The question was repeated softly this time. “I’ve heard two or three. Which is it?”

Denver turned heel and returned to his office, closed the door, and buzzed for his detectives to come in and bring their notes.

“We have a positive ID on this morning’s vic.”

Cass didn’t wait until she was seated to begin her verbal report.

“Lisa Montour. Age thirty-one. And as per Phyl, she was in fact the manicurist at the Red Rose Salon in town. I called the salon and found that she hadn’t come in yet today. Called her roommate, she said Lisa went out to meet up with some friends last night, but didn’t come home. The roommate didn’t realize that, however, until the salon called this morning.”

“Can we get the names of the friends she was meeting?” Denver asked.

Cass held up a stenographer’s notebook.

“The roommate gave them to me, along with phone numbers. She was supposed to go with Lisa last night, by the way, but got home from work really late and was just too tired to go out. I’ve already spoken with two of the four she was supposed to meet, but they both said Lisa didn’t show up. They figured she got home from work and maybe just fell asleep.”

“What time did she leave her apartment?” Denver sat back in his chair. “Walk me through what you’ve got.”

“Her roommate-Carol Tufts, her name is-said Lisa left around nine-fifteen for Kelly’s down on Twelfth Street. Should have taken her ten minutes at the most to get there.”

“She was driving?”

“Walking. Her car had a flat, and she had no spare tire, so she decided to walk. Carol said she offered her the use of her car, but Lisa said she’d just as soon walk, since it was a nice night.”

“When was the flat tire discovered, do we know?” Denver asked.

“Yesterday morning. According to Carol, the tire was flat when Lisa went down to leave for work in the morning. Found the tire flat, realized she didn’t have a spare, so she had someone from the salon pick her up, and got a ride home yesterday afternoon.” Cass looked up from her notes. “I’ll bring the tire in for inspection.”

Her cell phone vibrated against her hip, and she glanced at the number.

“It’s the lab,” she told the chief. “I think I want to take this.”

Denver nodded, then turned his attention to Jeff Spencer, who’d been silent since he’d entered the room.

“So what do you have to add to Detective Burke’s report, Spencer?”

Spencer shrugged. “Not much.”

“Well, you were there at the scene this morning, weren’t you?”