Erica Spindler - Copy Cat

“Understood.” She turned and walked to the door. There, she stopped and looked back. “Request permission to follow up on evidence unrelated to Joe. Specifically to go through the contents of the storage locker.”

“Seems like a good use of your time. And, Kitt, for what it’s worth, I hope you’re right about Joe.”

She thanked him and returned to her desk. She gazed at the transcript, feeling suddenly lost. In need of a friend.

Brian, she thought. If anyone would understand, it’d be him.

Kitt headed for his office. When she reached it, she found the door closed. She lifted her hand to knock on his door, then froze as she heard M.C.’s voice. “Enough! Stop following me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. I saw you roll by my house the other night. You were tailing me earlier that same night. I don’t want to have to go to the chief with this.”

“I bet you don’t.” Brian snickered. “Don’t want anyone to know you slept your way into the VCB.”

Kitt heard M.C.’s sharply drawn breath. “That’s a lie, you prick.”

“You know how fast news travels in the RPD. Speed of light, babe.”

Clearly the two had had a sexual relationship. When? Had Brian used his influence to get M.C. assigned to the Violent Crimes Bureau?

“Try it,” M.C. said, “and you’ll regret it, I promise you that.”

“Are you threatening me, Detective?”

“Whatever you want to call it. Back off.”

The last was delivered in a voice akin to a growl. Kitt dropped her hand and took a step backward. She had heard enough. Her respect for both colleagues had plummeted.

She took another step; Brian’s door flew open. M.C. stormed out, stopping short when she saw her.

“Kitt!” she exclaimed, face red. “What a coincidence, I was just coming to find you.” She glanced toward Brian’s door, then back at Kitt. “Joe’s alibi checked out.”

“I thought it would.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not guilty.”

“You’re getting a search warrant.”

It wasn’t a question; she answered, anyway. “Yes. Should have it within the hour.”

“Sal took me off the case. Temporarily.” M.C. nodded. Obviously, if she hadn’t already known, she had expected it. “I’ll keep you posted on our progress.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Kitt watched her go, then tapped on Brian’s door casing. He was on the phone; he waved her in.

“So call me,” he said. “I miss you. Okay?”

He hung up, the picture of misery.

“What’s up, Brian? You look like you lost your best friend.”

“Ivy and I have split up. Her idea.”

Brian was a good cop and had been a wonderful partner and friend. But no way would she want to be married to the man. He had a serious case of Peter Pan syndrome.

“Sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?”

He dragged his hands through his hair. Kitt saw that they shook. She noticed how much of his red mane had been replaced by gray. When the heck had that happened?

“I wish. This time I…I think she means it.”

Because of an affair with the much younger M.C.? Or something-someone-else?

He jumped to his feet, visibly shaking off his mood. “That partner of yours was just in here.”

Kitt cocked an eyebrow at his choice of words. “I saw that.”

“She told me about Joe.”

Did she? Odd. “What did she say, exactly?”

“That he was a suspect. A good suspect. And that you’re off the case.”

“Temporarily,” she corrected. “Until Joe’s cleared.”

“I’m sorry, Kitt. It really sucks.”

“He’s not a part of this. I know he’s not.”

He began to pace, as if agitated. “She was almost gloating about it. I found that curious. I thought you two were getting along?”

Kitt frowned. The part of the conversation she’d overheard had nothing to do with Joe, but why would Brian lie to her?

“We’re tolerating each other pretty well.”

Or at least, she had thought so until this morning.

He stopped, turned and faced her. “Can I give you some advice?”

“Always, Brian.”

“With that one, watch your back. She’s ambitious…and she’ll do anything, to anyone, to get what she wants.”

With that off his chest, he seemed to relax. He settled onto the corner of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “Did you come down here just to shoot the shit, or was there something specific you needed?”

“Wanted to pass something by you.”

“Go for it.”

“I was reviewing the transcripts of my calls with Peanut. Could the SAK be a cop?”

“A cop?” he repeated. “Geez, Kitt, how could you even think that?”

“The way he talks. That he knew about Derrick Todd. Think about it.” She leaned forward. “He knows the process. That’s how he’s gotten away with it.”

“Yeah, sure. But why?”

“Could it be someone who feels slighted? Someone passed over for promotion? Fired or dressed down in some way?” This time it was she who stood, who started pacing. As she did, she fitted the pieces together, thinking aloud. “He’s arrogant. Proud of his ‘perfect’ crimes. He’s made a big deal about how we’ve all been chasing our tails.”

He nodded slowly. “Theoretically, it makes some sense. But a cop? Cops might take a couple dollars under the table here or there, accept a favor or a free cup of coffee, but serial murder?”

She refused to back off. “A cop with an ax to grind.”

“Why involve you?”

“He wanted to boast. This Copycat came along, it pissed him off. Or maybe I’m a symbol of the fallen cop. The total screwup.”

“Maybe.” He rubbed his jaw. Kitt noticed that he hadn’t shaved. At the same moment, she noticed he looked as if he’d slept in his clothes.

“Any names come to mind?” she asked.

He thought a moment, then shook his head. “Have you mentioned this to Sal?”

“Not yet. I wanted to run it by somebody first.” She smiled. “I picked my old friend.”

“I appreciate that vote of confidence.” He smiled and stood. “I tell you what, before you say anything to Sal, let me put my thinking cap on. Look through some records, see if I can come up with a name or two.”

She thanked him and headed for the door. There, she remembered the three women the SAK claimed were his. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about three cases you and Sergeant Haas worked on, back in ’98 and ’99.”

“Ask away.”

“Three elderly women, all beaten to death. Duct tape applied to their mouths postmortem. You remember them?”

He made a face. “How could I forget? What do you need to know?”

“Ever find a link between the three women?”

“Never. We knew the same UNSUB killed all three, but that’s as far as we got.”

“The SAK claims they’re his.”

Now she had him. “MO’s completely different.”

“True. But that’s the point.” Kitt explained how she had found the three cases and her “ying and yang” theory. “I confronted him, he said they were his.”

Brian nodded. “Plus, there were three. And the scenes were strangely evidence-free.”

“Exactly.”

“During the SAK investigation, I never even considered them related. Boy, do I feel like an idiot.”

“Who would have? If he hadn’t teased me with his claim of having ‘done’ others, I never would have gone looking.”

“How can I help?”

“Can you recall anything that stuck out as particularly odd about any of the witnesses? Any suspicions that you followed up on but led to nothing? Do you remember anyone you questioned being vague or uncommunicative?”

He was quiet, as if running through the case, refamiliarizing himself with it. He shook his head. “It was a horrendous case to work. Everyone was stunned by the brutality. Jonathan and I spent the most time trying to find the link between the women, thinking it might lead us to the killer.”