Travesty
Travesty
by
C. M. Sutter
Copyright © 2018
All Rights Reserved
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This book is a work of fiction by C. M. Sutter. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used solely for entertainment. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C. M. Sutter is a crime fiction writer who resides in Florida, although she is originally from California.
She is a member of numerous writers’ organizations, including Fiction for All, Fiction Factor, and Writers etc.
In addition to writing, she enjoys spending time with her friends and family. She is an art enthusiast and loves to create gourd birdhouses, pebble art, and handmade soaps. Hiking, bicycling, fishing, and traveling are a few of her favorite pastimes.
http://cmsutter.com/
Contact C. M. Sutter
Sign up for C. M. Sutter’s newsletter
Travesty: An Amber Monroe Crime Thriller, Book 5
In six counties lie numerous bodies, all with one thing in common—a tie around the neck of each victim. With a multicounty task force set up, the Washburn County Sheriff’s Office finds itself in the middle of the mayhem when the body of an unidentified woman is found in a nearby lake.
A well-meaning local man insists he knows the woman, yet all signs indicate he’s mistaken. But when a Chicago homicide detective charges into town and tries to take over the investigation, the whole case turns upside down.
With the people of southeast Wisconsin afraid to go out after dark, the task force kicks its search into high gear, yet the body count continues to rise. Working diligently day and night, the team finally catches the madman nicknamed “The Necktie Killer.” Relief spreads through the counties, and life goes back to normal—or does it?
No one sees what’s coming next…
See all of C. M. Sutter’s books at:
http://cmsutter.com/available-books/
Find C. M. Sutter on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/cmsutterauthor/
Don’t want to miss C. M. Sutter’s next release? Sign up for the VIP e-mail list at:
http://cmsutter.com/newsletter/
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 1
Matt Mellon’s anger was palpable as he stormed out to his car. His attempt at finding employment had gone nowhere—again. Just like everywhere else he’d applied, the human resources department of the local newspaper had turned him down for the posted job opening even though his credentials were perfect for the position. They had cited a lame excuse he knew was made up.
His squealing tires could be heard for blocks, and the rubber he left behind on the black asphalt proved it. The old faded sedan sped down the street, nearly hitting a jaywalker as Matt barreled through the downtown area. He opened the driver’s-side window and screamed at the petrified teenager.
“Watch where the hell you’re going, you damn punk! Next time I might gun it instead of braking.”
He swerved around the teen and raced through the red light without looking either way. Car horns blared as drivers hit the brakes. Matt had reached his breaking point, and what little concern he had for human life—including his own—had vanished like smoke in the wind.
Once he reached the rented doublewide tin can he had been calling home for the last year, he slammed the car door at his back and stormed up the porch steps. He sat at the table and tried to compose himself while his heart thumped nearly out of his chest.
Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.
Matt knew home was the wrong place to be. His state of mind could go either way. Both homicidal and suicidal thoughts ran through his head. The family dog whimpered as it cowered in the farthest corner of the kitchen.
“What’s your damn problem? You still get fed every day.”
“Who are you talking to?” Jenna, Matt’s wife of seven years, rounded the corner and stared at her husband.
“That mangy piece of shit whining in the corner. If he’s not careful, he’ll be on the dinner table before long. I can’t afford groceries for us anymore, let alone spending what little we have to buy food for that mutt.”
Jenna scooped up her beloved pet and held his quivering body against her own. She stroked his head as she spoke. “So you’re saying you were turned down for a job again?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m a pariah in this state. Nobody is going to hire someone who was falsely accused of murder. Once something has been said, it can’t be unsaid.” Matt pounded his fist against the table, causing the vase of water with a solitary half-wilted flower in it to tip and spill.
“You aren’t the only person struggling in this house, you know. I’m tired of your self-pity. Do something from home. Find an online job.” Jenna lowered Bandit to the floor and tore off a length of paper towel. She righted the vase and wiped the water from the table. “I’m tired of everything too. This isn’t the lifestyle I’m accustomed to either, but your attitude is toxic. I’m sick of it.”
He stood and crossed his arms against his chest, towering over her. “There isn’t enough money to go around, plain and simple. I want that dog gone before the end of the day.”
“He’ll leave when I do.”
“Is that right? And what is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m saying I want out. I’ve already filed for divorce.”
“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go.” In a split second, Matt had Jenna pinned against the kitchen wall. The timing of her announcement was a deadly mistake that sent him over the edge he had been teetering on for months. Jenna sputtered and gurgled as her arms and legs thrashed violently.
Her husband’s hands, wrapped around her neck, squeezed harder and harder.
“You aren’t going anywhere, do you understand me?”
She scratched his hands and tried to break his grip on her throat. Matt watched as her eyes bulged and her lips turned blue. A pop sounded, then Jenna went limp.
“Jenna?” Matt released his hold on her, and she slid to the floor. “Jenna, wake up!” He slapped her cheek. “Quit messing around. Wake up.” He slapped her again, harder that time, then held his fingertips to her throat. Her pulse was gone. “No, no, no—see what you made me do. This can’t be happening to me! It’s all your fault, you stupid bitch.”
Matt eyed the dog that had pressed himself against the wall. “Get out!” He opened the screen door and pushed the whimpering mutt to the porch. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t come back either.”
Chapter 2
“Find anything yet?” I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled in Jack’s direction. I was sure my voice was drowned out by the loud chugging diesel sounds of the backhoe and front end loader’s engines. Since he faced the other way, Jack obviously had no idea we’d arrived.
“Looks like we’re going in,” Kate said. Disgust crossed her face as she stared at the garbage beneath our feet.
“I’m not wearing the right kind of shoes.” I nodded toward Jack. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
Kate arched her right brow. “Nice try, but I don’t think so. Come on.”
I groaned my displeasure and tried to come up with an alternative. My new suede loafers weren’t designed to walk through mounds of garbage and seagull waste. “Wait, I’ll text him instead.”
Kate waved me off and headed for Jack. “If he can’t hear you yelling, he isn’t going to hear a silent text. Now let’s go.”
Watching every step I took, I carefully tried to catch up.
Jack seemed surprised by our presence and instantly checked our feet, then looked at his own. He wore rubber boots. “Why on earth would you walk out here in those shoes? You could have texted me, and I would have come to you.”
I elbowed Kate. “Thanks.” I tipped my head toward the two-story pile of garbage. “Have they come across anything suspicious?”
Jack sighed. “Not yet. They said they’d call my phone if they saw anything.” He patted his chest pocket. “That’s why I have it where I can hear it.”
I gave Kate another scowl and looked at my stained shoes. “What is the latest from Waukesha County?”
“Sergeant Landry called as I was driving to work. He said the self-proclaimed killer cited our county landfill as the burial grounds of his latest victim.” Jack shook his head at my shoes. “You should really keep a pair of rubber boots in your car. You never know when you might need them.”
I muttered under my breath. “So how credible is this so-called confessor? Is he really the necktie killer or just a wannabe hoping for fifteen minutes of fame?”
Jack shrugged. “He’ll get a lot more than fifteen minutes if he’s the real deal. According to Landry, the guy has an extensive rap sheet, but the majority of it was for robbery. He served a nickel term in Waupun and was released nine months ago. Nothing in his jacket screams that he’s advanced to murder, yet he was pretty accurate with some of the details of the last victim.”
“Was any of it things he could have learned from the news?”
“Yeah, probably. There’s real news and fake news. Either way, he could have made a lucky guess. Maybe he likes the prison life and wants to go back. Some cons think it’s homey on the inside. Hell, they don’t have to pay any bills, they have a roof over their heads, and they get three squares a day. We taxpayers take care of their room and board. The only thing they have to concern themselves with is watching out for a shiv.”
“Has he ever had a psych eval?” Kate asked.
“Not sure. This is the first time I’ve heard his name mentioned.” Jack jerked his head toward the rubble. Seagulls and vultures cried out and swooped down on the rotting garbage. “And that’s only because he said he dumped a body out there.”
“What’s the guy’s name?” I asked.
“Greg Horton, and he insists he’s the necktie killer. I wonder how forthcoming he’d be if Wisconsin was a death penalty state.” Jack pushed back his sleeve and checked the time. “What’s going on at the sheriff’s office?”
Kate spoke up. “Nothing urgent has come in this morning.” She crossed her fingers. “We were reviewing the upcoming Nick Connor trial. Carolyn said she’s changing her name back to Klineman, her maiden name.”
Jack nodded as if recalling the details of our recent case. “Can you blame her? There’s been so much press about the case. Nick is right where he belongs, in prison, awaiting his trial. He can’t experiment on anyone behind bars.”
“Except other inmates,” I said. “Mark and Brian’s sentencing hearings are in a few weeks. I hope they both spend plenty of time in prison too, especially since Trish doesn’t seem to be improving.”
“The justice system will prevail, ladies. We have to have faith in that.” Jack shielded his eyes as the backhoe stopped and the driver climbed to the ground. “Shit, he may have something. Come on. Let’s see what he’s found.”
We trudged through the trash until we reached the idling backhoe. The driver was rummaging through the garbage.
“Find something?” Jack asked as we approached.
The man, who identified himself as Frank, spoke up. “I spotted a rolled-up blanket. Now I just have to find it again.” He waved at the other driver, who aimed the front-end loader toward us. “Give me a hand over here, Lucas. I may have found something.”
We stood back, covering our noses with our forearms. The unearthed rotting trash had a strong, pungent scent that I could almost taste. The two men tore through the heaps of garbage.
“What are we looking for?” Lucas asked.
“It was either a rolled-up blue blanket or a rug.”
Under dozens of trash bags, Lucas discovered a blue blanket bound with packaging tape on either end. “I got it over here.”
Jack charged forward, clearly eager to see what they’d found. He nodded to Frank. “Open it carefully.”
Frank pulled out a box cutter from his back pocket and sliced through the tape. With Lucas holding one end, Frank unrolled the blanket. Inside was nothing but more garbage. I let out the breath I had been holding when I saw the men shrug to Jack.
“I have to call Landry,” Jack said as he returned to our side. “This search is going to be time-consuming if these guys are expected to continue looking in this twenty-acre heap of trash. There has to be some kind of evidence before I push Washburn County to foot the bill for this. Maybe it’s time to interview this attention seeker and see what he really knows about this landfill and how he managed to dump a body here to begin with.” Jack scanned the area. “This place is surrounded by a chain-link fence, and the gate is locked at night. According to the statements these two guys gave me, there wasn’t any evidence of a break-in when they got here.”
Chapter 3
I watched as Jack plowed through the trash on his way to his cruiser to make the call. In that moment, I would have given anything to have on his rubber boots. We followed and tried to sidestep the garbage.
“Go ahead and leave. I may put a halt to this search for the time being until we have more information. I’m sure Landry would agree if he saw the size of this place.”
“You got it, boss. Are you heading back too?”
Jack turned and looked out over the expanse at our backs. “Probably, but I’ll listen to what Landry suggests first.”
Kate and I drove the fifteen minutes to the sheriff’s office and entered the building to find the bull pen empty.
“What the hell?” I stepped out to see Jan from the front desk coming around the corner from the lunchroom. She carried a soda.
“Hi, Amber. Find anything at the landfill?”
“No, but where are Clayton and
Billings?”
“That’s right. It’s been nearly an hour since they left. A call came in from the Lakeview Tavern on Wallace Lake. A patron at the bar swore they saw a body floating among the marsh grass along the shoreline. Clayton was doubtful, but he said if it was true, he didn’t want half-drunk bystanders contaminating the scene.”
“Seriously? What the hell is going on? First there’s alleged to be a body at the landfill and now in Wallace Lake? Why didn’t they call us?”
“To be honest, I think they assumed somebody had too much to drink. You know how those end-of-the-workweek third shifters like to party. Friday mornings are notorious for drunk calls to the police station and to us. Clayton said something to that effect, anyway. He mentioned how it was probably just junk floating in the water, and to half-drunk eyes, it may have looked like more.” Jan glanced at the clock. “But there could be something going on since they haven’t returned yet.”
I laughed. “Yeah, like their delicious Friday fish fry.”
Kate nodded a thanks, and we went back inside the bull pen. “Should we call the guys and get the scoop?”
We turned at the sound of the code being entered into the keypad behind us. Billings and Clayton walked in.
I scrubbed my shoes with a paper towel as I sat at my desk. Adam watched my efforts with disgust written across his face. With a defeated sigh, I tossed the paper towel in the trash and addressed Chad. “Jan said somebody called in a floating body on Wallace Lake. What gives?”
“What gives is three Long Island Iced Teas too many. The caller was more than a little tipsy, but we checked it out, anyway.”
“And you found what?” Kate rested her cheek on her fist. Her eyes twinkled playfully.