Danger Close (John Taylor #7) - Chapter 3

“So, what was that all about?” Whitaker asked.

“The general wanted to make sure we realized that Davis was here specifically to interfere with our investigation, probably to keep us from making the Army look bad.”

“That was pretty obvious already though, right?”

“Yeah. He’s been ordered to not interfere with Davis but he offered us any unofficial help we might need.”

“You’re taking him at his word?”

“For now. He seems annoyed with all the people coming in and out of here, and he just wants the black marketeers gone so he can get back to running his base. He seemed on the up and up.”

“Okay, well, I guess we’ll take him up on it when we need to and see what happens.”

“Exactly. So what have you found?”

“Not much yet. I’ve looked into the four murders and as far as I can see, they all look connected to the black market ring. Besides the girlfriend of the supply sergeant, there was one more civilian and two enlisted personnel. The civilian worked accounting at one of the civilian warehouses and was dating a corporal from the MPs. When the third investigation tagged him as a possible leak, he went AWOL. The pair of them were found the next day by locals at her apartment, both dead. The locals had originally tagged it as a murder-suicide thing.”

“Could it have been? Maybe he knew he was caught, did her and then himself?”

“Maybe, but the scene seems too staged and the Army was only asking questions at that point. He hadn’t even been interviewed yet. Seems a little early to panic and off yourself. Guys like this, they usually think they’re smart enough to talk their way out of it, which is actually how we usually catch them. Captain Chenier thought so, at least. His notes are pretty thorough.”

“Okay, so he and his girlfriend were done to shut them up. What about the fourth victim?”

“A private in transport. That one is the weakest. He was definitely murdered, on base this time. They found him in the motor pool. What they can’t do is tie him to anything illegal. Chenier tore through the man’s career and followed all of his movements, and nothing at all stood out. I’m going to go over them again, but assuming he’s right, then it makes you wonder what he was killed for.”

“Is it possible he was murdered for something else?”

“Maybe. Chenier looked into it, but couldn’t find anything there, either. No bad debts, no enemies to speak of, no angry boyfriends. It could have been over something else, something personal here on base, but the captain didn’t make any notes about it.”

“Probably because he didn’t see any need to on base, there wasn’t a lot to murder someone over, and when it does happen, it’s usually in the heat of the moment. It’s loud, in the open, and not well planned out. There’s usually not much to investigate.”

“Which about sums up where Chenier’s investigation ended. What about the stuff that was stolen?”

“I haven’t had a chance to do any research on other thefts on Army bases to get a baseline, but from the captain’s notes, he makes it sound unusual. The thing he had a problem with was the random nature of what was stolen. Some of it’s new, just off the truck, other stuff had been warehoused here for over a year. Sometimes it would be high-dollar items, other times, it would be cheap. Sometimes it would be electrical equipment and sometimes it would be weapons or ammunition. The only pattern he seems to have found was the lack of any pattern to find. It’s one of the things that frustrated the investigation the most. Without a real pattern, they couldn’t even guess what the next thing to be stolen would be, and there’s no way to watch everything on a base like this.”

“So, we’re basically starting from zero?”

“Basically, yeah. The murders give me pause. People who are this careful about covering their tracks on the thefts themselves are just leaving bodies lying around. If you wanted to keep stealing stuff, you’d want a low profile to keep things isolated to just the local commander, right? Leaving bodies lying around is guaranteed to bring in outside investigators and resources to catch you. Once, maybe. Something got out of hand or they couldn’t help it, but four? It just doesn’t fit.”

“So we start with the murders, since they’re the anomaly.”

“Exactly. What about this guy from the DOD, Davis. When your general said he’s going to interfere, what kind of interferences should we expect? I mean, we were sent here by all of their bosses.”

“One, he’s not my general. I met him at the same time you did. As for Davis, who knows? The guys like him I’ve dealt with before, it was all complaints to superiors and paperwork, maybe slowing down resources. The only thing I’m concerned about is if the Pentagon tries to start transferring out witnesses, beyond that, there’s not much they can do without actively going against the President. Whatever it is, I’m betting it’ll be more of an annoyance than anything else, since we still have the trump card, but who knows.”

“Still, we should keep an eye on him, and our witnesses. Should we ask Joe for some backup maybe? So we have people outside of their chain of command if we need someone sat on?”

“I don’t think Joe can help. His warning was as unofficial as it could get, which is its own message, I think. He knew he couldn’t do any more, so he gave you a heads up. Joe’s a good guy, for a bureaucrat, but he’s not the type to get personally involved unless that’s his only play. If he could have sent help, he would have done that and stayed quiet.”

“Maybe. This place is a shithole, by the way,” she said, looking around the small building they’d been assigned.

The building was an old wooden shed more than a building, painted a dark green, without windows and only one door. It had probably been used for storage until they’d needed a place to put them, when space had been cleared for two desks. It still had stacks of boxes in it that looked to contain clerical supplies pushed to one side of the room. Besides the desks, there were also two cots shoved against one wall, which meant this was probably going to double as their sleeping quarters as well.

“Don’t they have on-base housing?”

“They’ll have officer’s quarters, some visitors’ quarters, and base housing for the soldiers. Even with a unit here training, they’d have some unoccupied.”

“So having us sleep in here is a message.”

“Yep. Hurry up and get out, I think.”

“So maybe your general’s not on our side as much as you think he is.”

“Maybe, but then his warning to me doesn’t make sense. I’m betting he didn’t have a choice. Pettiness from the brass tends to be specific. I’m betting he’s following his orders to the letter, which keeps him out of direct trouble, and only doing that. Of course, someone will be watching, so expect the pettiness to increase as they try and get their message through.”

“This place isn’t going to collapse on us?”

“I don’t think so,” Taylor said, getting up and walking around the small shack, pushing on their wall here, kicking the boards there. “Seems solid enough, if shoddy. I’m sure if we really wanted to, we could get it to come down with a little effort, but it’s not going to fall on its own, at least not while we’re here.”

“It’ll get cold at night. There’s no insulation or anything.”

“No, this isn’t meant for people. Thirty years ago someone decided they needed more storage or something, slapped up four walls and a roof and called it a building. It’ll be fine. I’ll requisition some sleeping bags; we’ll be fine for a few nights. Worse comes to worst, we can go into town; they probably have a motel for visitors to the base itself, at least. So, crime scene?”

“Yeah, let’s check out the crime scene.”

The crime scene was an old, fifties-style tract house, probably built just after the war. The base had gotten several new leases on life, and one had been just after World War Two, when the Army was trying to train for new missions in far-off lands to combat communism.

The crime scene had already been cleaned up, which wasn’t a surprise. The murder may have been the thing to get the President to send Taylor and Caldwell out, but it had taken time to get to that level. There were still traces of the murder though. The carpet, for instance, was a goanna color. Blood would never come out of it and whoever owned it would just have to replace it. There was no saving it. For now, the stain was still there and told a story.

He and Whitaker had already read the file, but even without that, he would have known an artery had been cut. The bloodstain went deep, turning the padding at the base of the carpet almost black. She’d lost a lot of blood, more than possible for just a wound. It had come out thick and fast, which required an artery, pumping it out.

The stain also showed it had been the carotid, since the blood made a vague pattern of her upper body as it pooled around her upper torso. Taylor circled the bloodstain, looking up at the ceiling and walls. That, the cleaners had been able to get rid of, eliminating any traces.

“I have pictures,” the captain said, recognizing what Taylor was looking for. Handing them over, he said, “There was a good deal of splatter, arched through here and clean into the breakfast nook area, floor to ceiling. Forensic guys say the killer pulled her head back, exposing the neck and causing the artery to contract after its cut, which explains the pattern. They also found hair and root pulled loose from the scalp, probably from the guy yanking hard.”

“There weren’t any defensive wounds though, right?” Whitaker asked. “She didn’t put up a fight. He just grabbed and cut.”

“Right. Nothing under her fingernails, no bruising, except on her back and the back of her head, where she hit the ground after she fell.”

“She didn’t drop to her knees?” Taylor asked.

“No. No bruising there. The way I figure, he already had a hold of her hair, and made his cut, so he just pulls back and lets go. She’s stunned, trying to work out what happened, and crashes backward. Bruises on the lower back, shoulder blades and head, bang, bang, bang.”

“Lines up,” Taylor said. “So she was comfortable with him, then. She didn’t see it coming so he was behind her and they were walking this way, right?”

“Probably. Her calendar had her showing houses to a guy she’d written down as Dillon. That’s it, so he must have just started looking. I went and looked at her books and there wasn’t any kind of paperwork with that name.”

“Did she call anyone around the time of her death? Maybe a ‘hey, I’m at the house, where are you’re kind of thing?”

“Yep, one within the window. Goes to a burner purchased out of Odessa.”

“Camera?” Whitaker asked hopefully.

“No. Third rate kind of place. They have a camera up, but it’s not hooked up to anything, just for show to scare off shoplifters. Paid in cash almost two months before. No one remembers him.”

“So he’s organized, right?” Taylor asked. “Makes sense for someone running a black market ring that no one can find. We’re pretty sure it’s a he, right?”

“Coroner said yeah. The knife cut into the bone a bit, real deep. Could’a been a woman, but she would have been damn strong.”

“So,” Taylor said, backing up and looking across the room, “He calls her and says he wants to see a house. Maybe he suggests the place, maybe she does. She starts showing him around, turns to show him the kitchen, he grabs her, yanks back, cuts her neck, and then yanks harder, pulling her to the floor, where she bleeds out. That about sums it up, right?”

“That’s about it.”

“My question is, why is she so easy-going? She’s dating a soldier who just got picked up for selling stolen army goods and she’s here showing a house. This guy is probably in the Army, since he’s part of the ring, so there’s a chance he’s involved. I mean, if I was dating a criminal who’d just got picked up, I’d be suspicious of anyone.”

“There’s a chance she wasn’t actually involved. Just ‘cause they’re hooking up doesn’t mean he’s sharing the details of his criminal enterprise with him. She might not even have known he was locked up yet, since we don’t know how often they talked.”

“Then why kill her if she didn’t know anything?”

“Our thinking was that it was a warning,” Chenier said. “He’s got a sister in California and maybe it was a threat that if he talked, they’d kill her too.”

“I don’t know,” Taylor said. “It doesn’t feel right. You said he clammed up as soon as he got the word she was dead?”

“Yeah. Said he just wanted to go to the courts-martial and get it over with.”

“So he got the message, whatever it was.”

“Seems so.”

“I don’t know,” Taylor said again. “Nothing was taken, right?”

“Nope. House was empty, but she had cash and cards in her wallet still, when we got here.”

“Forensics?” Whitaker asked.

“Nothing. No hair that we could find but hers. We found some prints, but they were all hers too, although there were some places that looked wiped down.”

“So he kept track of everywhere he touched and wiped the surfaces. Thorough,” she said.

“Yeah. I was leaning to a paid hit maybe. Guys smuggling stuff through the wire don’t normally have this much control, there’s always something.”

“I don’t know. Small town like this, people notice when someone new is coming through. I guess he could have dressed like a soldier, since those would be the only people in town that wouldn’t stand out, but they’d have to drive in from Odessa, which would be noticeable, since I got the impression that all of the base personnel come in through military transport.”

“They do.”

“Small town like this, they notice everything. Someone in uniform driving in from Odessa, they’d notice. Someone new in town not in uniform, they’d notice.”

“So you think it was someone from on base? I still have trouble believing a thief is this good at killing. All of the murders have been the same. Clean, quick, no witnesses and no forensics.”

“Yeah, we’re missing something. Let’s go talk to the spouse.”

“Her husband? He runs the hardware store and didn’t even know she was cheating on him. What could he offer?”

“Captain, if I knew that, I wouldn’t need to talk to him.”

“You’re in charge, I guess.”

The captain drove them back out of the subdivision and onto the main road headed away from the base. The town’s main street was about thirty shops spread across four buildings on either side. It was a unique mixture that Taylor had seen in other base towns, with half the stores geared towards the locals, such as the hardware or grocery stores, with the rest targeting base personnel.

Towns like this only made money two ways, off the people who worked civilian jobs on or around the base, or in supplying the base or its personnel in some way. Soldiers, especially the younger ones, didn’t have a lot to do off duty, so they burned their money on things they usually didn’t need, like cars they couldn’t afford, disposable entertainment, and girls. Taylor knew if he looked, he’d find both bars and strip clubs somewhere off main street, but here there were still places for the men to spend their money.

The captain pulled in front of the hardware store and led them inside, where a slightly older man stood behind the counter, marking off some kind of paperwork. He clearly recognized the captain, his expression turning sour as soon as he looked up and recognized the man.

“What? Haven’t you done enough? I told you, I don’t know anything else and I didn’t know this guy. Hell, one of you probably did it, and I know you shipped him off somewhere, where I can’t get at him. Haven’t you done enough already?”

“Sir, I’m Agent Whitaker with the FBI. I know this is difficult and I’m sure you’re tired of answering questions, but we’ve come in to help with the investigation. Your wife wasn’t a service member, and we think both of you deserve any answers we can get for you.”

Taylor usually let Whitaker do this part. There might have been a lot of things he was good at, but not pissing people off usually wasn’t one of them.

“Good, fine. You can still get the hell out of here though,” he said to the captain.

The man looked at Taylor, who gave the man a nod and waited until he left to speak.

“I take it the Army hasn’t been particularly forthcoming about the investigation into your wife’s murder?”

“Forthcoming? They’ve swept the entire damn thing under the rug. They even took my wife’s body out from under Sheriff Parnell less than twenty-four hours after she was killed, and I haven’t heard a word about it yet. I call and they tell me they’re still processing her body as part of the investigation. I want to bury my wife. They won’t even give me her things back. She had a necklace I gave her last year and her wedding ring, probably in someone’s pocket by now. I have nothing left of her.”

“We’ll see what we can do about getting her body released, along with her personal effects. For right now, we have some questions we need to ask. I know the Army’s already been here and has probably asked a bunch of these same questions, but we wanted to get the answers from you, instead of filtered through their preconceptions.”

“Whatever, as long as it helps you find my wife’s killer, I don’t care.”

“Did you know she had a showing that morning?” Whitaker asked.

“Yes, although I didn’t know who with. She just mentioned she had to show some houses and we made plans to meet up for lunch afterward.”

“So she didn’t say anything else about her client? Maybe mention if it was a man or woman, or if they were from the base?”

“No, just that she had a showing. That’s how she always said it.”

“Did you know she was sleeping with a sergeant?” Taylor asked.

The man’s brow furrowed and his hands balled into fists as he looked over to Taylor, “Of course I didn’t know. Do you think I would have let it go on if I knew?”

“I think what my partner meant was, did you suspect she might have been having an affair? Were there any signs?”

He glared at Taylor for another moment before turning back to Whitaker and saying, “No. She seemed happy. We were talking about maybe starting a family. Hell, she wanted to get out of here, kept pushing me to sell my shop and move out to Amarillo or maybe Lubbock. We’d fought about it a couple of times.”

“Did you know the man she was sleeping with was involved in stealing Army property?” Taylor asked.

“What? I told you I didn’t even know she was cheating on me. How would I know what he did?”

“So you weren’t involved with stealing and reselling army property out of Fort Chilton?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you. My wife was murdered, you people are covering it up, and you’re sitting here accusing me of a crime?”

“Wait outside,” Whitaker said, an edge of anger in her voice.

Taylor didn’t say anything else to him or give a second glance as he stood up and walked out of the store. Chenier was still outside, leaning on the hood of the car, smoking a cigarette.

“That was fast,” he said as Taylor pulled the door closed behind him.

“She’s still questioning him,” Taylor said, not offering an explanation. “She’ll probably be another ten minutes.”

“Whatever,” Chenier said, taking another drag on his cigarette.

“Why haven’t you released her body yet?”

“Not my call. Brass said to hold onto it, in case it was needed.”

“You had someone examine it already?”

“Yeah, they sent out someone two days ago.”

“Did they need time to finish the autopsy?”

“No, they already left.”

“Then release the body. I doubt there’s anything else we can get from her murder, and unless you think the autopsy was botched, we can just use their records.”

“No, they seemed competent, but I still have orders.”

“Just get her body released. We’ll make sure you get new orders. Also get her personal effects back to him.”

“Whatever. You guys are in charge now.”

Taylor had been spot on with his assessment as Whitaker came out the front door a few seconds shy of ten minutes later.

“I hate it when you do that,” she said, looking at him hard.

“It works. He doesn’t know anything.”

“No kidding, but you could at least warn me next time. He’s pissed and he’ll be harder to question if we have to go back to him.”

“He’ll be fine once he gets her body back, but I doubt we’ll need to. He wasn’t involved and doesn’t know anything.”

“We could have found out the same thing without pissing him off.”

“True, now we know. If he was lying, he could have prepared for them. Catching him off guard, we got to see what he was really thinking. He wasn’t faking that.”

“No, no one fakes how pissed off you make them.”

“We all have our skills, Princess.”

She glared at him again, this time much more pointedly. He knew she hated that nickname and she knew he only did it when he wanted to get a rise out of her.

“So where to now?” Chenier asked.

“Let’s go talk to the local sheriff,” Taylor said.