Travesty Read online

  Billings shook his head. “It was a horse-shaped beach floaty gone astray that got hung up in the cattails in the marshy section of the lake.” Adam chuckled. “We made a positive ID with our binoculars.”

  I laughed. “At least you didn’t end up in the drink like we did that time when we were trying to sneak around the Friends for Life property. Keith Hadley came out of nowhere and scared the crap out of us.”

  Adam jerked his head toward my feet and pinched his nose. “Yeah, you should always carry a second pair of shoes with you. You never know where you might end up.”

  My mouth dropped open. I looked at Kate and shook my head. “I’m just going to sit over here and mind my own business. There’s way too much weird stuff going on today, and it isn’t even lunchtime yet.”

  Jack walked in ten minutes later and pointed at Kate and me. “You two are going for a drive.”

  I perked up and rubbed my hands together. “Where to, boss?”

  “You’re going to the Waukesha County Sheriff’s Office, where Greg Horton has taken up temporary residence. Landry has agreed to let you ladies interview him to see if he’ll give you specific details about the body dump claim. Kate, I want you to use whatever you’ve got going on in your head to see if you can get a read on this guy. I told Landry if Mr. Horton sounds credible and gives us reason to believe his claim, we’ll continue the landfill search, otherwise I’m calling it off. That is, unless Waukesha County wants to foot the bill.”

  “Are we leaving now?” I checked my purse for my notepad and pushed back my chair.

  Jack tipped his chin toward the door. “Yeah, go ahead and keep me posted.”

  I turned to Billings. “I need your tie, Adam.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. If this guy is the so-called necktie killer, he’s going to demonstrate how to tie a tie for me.”

  Adam loosened his tie and slid it off. “You’re lucky this isn’t an expensive one. Toss it when you’re done. I don’t need any bad luck coming my way.”

  “Thanks, bud.” I took the tie and stuffed it in my purse. Kate and I headed for the door. I was happy to do something that didn’t require sitting at my desk. I would much rather interview criminals than fill out and file paperwork.

  We crossed the parking lot, and I clicked the fob for the first cruiser in the row of available cars. I climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up. “Is it supposed to be a full moon tonight?”

  “Don’t know.” Kate pulled out her phone from her purse. “According to the all-knowing internet, it says the next full moon is July thirteenth. Oh, crap!”

  I turned toward her as I made a right off Schmidt Road onto Washington Street and headed toward the freeway. “Oh crap what?”

  “That’s also Friday the thirteenth.”

  “Hmm… a week from today. I wonder how much crap is going to hit the fan in the next seven days.”

  We arrived at the Waukesha County Sheriff’s Office on West Moreland Avenue at eleven thirty. The tan four-story cement structure was reminiscent of our own building. We entered the main lobby, introduced ourselves at the front desk, and asked for Sergeant Ken Landry. The deputy at the desk paged him and told us it would be a few minutes. I gave him a thank-you nod and found a comfortable seat in the waiting area. Kate flipped through a home remodeling magazine while I deleted old messages from my phone.

  We looked in the direction of the approaching footsteps. The marble-tiled floor amplified sounds, even from a distance. A well-dressed man who appeared to be in his late thirties headed toward us. He had one hand outstretched, and in the other, he carried a folder. Kate and I stood, introduced ourselves, and shook his hand.

  “I’m Sergeant Ken Landry.” He glanced at a paper clipped note attached to the folder in his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Detectives Monroe and Pierce. Lieutenant Steele mentioned that one of you is a psychic detective and that he’d like you to take a crack at Greg Horton.”

  Kate’s face immediately went cherry red. “Yes, that would be me, Sergeant.”

  He gave her a wide smile. “That’s very intriguing, and I’ll admit, I’ve never met a psychic detective before. So you think you can read something from his voice or demeanor that the rest of us might miss?”

  “I have no idea, sir, but it’s worth a try.”

  “Sure, right this way.” He handed the folder to me. “This is Horton’s jacket. You might want to familiarize yourself with his crimes before you talk to him.”

  I thanked him as he led us through a long, sterile-looking hallway, down a flight of stairs, and past a security door. The county jail was directly ahead.

  “We have to sign in on that clipboard.” He pointed at the sheet on the counter to our left. “Name, date, and time, then we can continue on.”

  I smiled. “Same requirements we have.”

  “Of course. I guess I blurt that out to everyone without thinking.” Sergeant Landry spoke to the deputy sitting behind the check-in desk. “I need Horton transferred to box number two.”

  The deputy made a call then nodded at the sergeant. “He’ll be ready in five minutes, sir.”

  “Good enough.” Landry rapped on the counter with his knuckles. “Escort these detectives into that room once Horton is linked up.” He turned to us. “We’ll review your notes in my office once you’re done with the interview.”

  “That sounds good,” Kate said. “We’ll talk to you soon.”

  A few minutes later, the deputy led us to interrogation room number two. Kate stopped and turned toward him. “May we watch the prisoner from the observation room first? We’d like to get a sense of how he behaves when he thinks he’s alone, and we want to familiarize ourselves with his jacket too.”

  “Sure, go ahead. Spend as much time as you like. You can enter box two whenever you’re ready.”

  We thanked the deputy, and he returned to his desk. Inside the observation room, Kate and I took the seats nearest the window and watched Greg Horton as he sat on the other side of the glass. His wrists were cuffed to the table, but he didn’t seem at all nervous. He appeared relaxed.

  “He almost looks smug, to the point of thinking this is funny.” Kate pulled out her notepad and jotted down something.

  “I thought the same thing. I wonder what his angle is and why he came up with Washburn County Landfill as his alleged dump spot.”

  “More publicity possibly by crossing county lines. He’s definitely seeking as much attention as he can get. We need to get into his head and figure out why he’s saying he’s the necktie killer. My gut is already telling me he’s full of crap.”

  I stood. “Shall we?”

  “Yep, let’s do it.”

  Kate and I exited the observation room, made a quick right, and entered the interrogation room. We introduced ourselves to Greg and took seats across from him. I instantly disliked the man. Something about his demeanor told me he was nothing more than a thrill seeker who wanted publicity. I wanted to slap the stupid grin off his face when he saw two women walk in. He didn’t know it yet, but he was about to get the most intensive grilling of his life. Kate had the insight and instinct, and I had the tough cop training instilled in me from watching and listening to my sister Jade and my late dad over the years. I glanced at the clock—11:04—then pulled out my own notepad and pen and began firing questions at him. His “full of himself” grin faded quickly.

  Chapter 4

  Sweat droplets beaded on Greg’s forehead as the interrogation began. I reached in my purse and pulled out a travel pack of wet wipes.

  “Need to cool off, Greg? Is something working you up? We’re here to listen, so go ahead and get it off your chest.”

  “Go to hell, cop.”

  I smiled, which I was certain infuriated him. “Sure thing, but let’s get this interview over with first.”

  “How old are you now, Greg? Tell us about your school years and where you went. Were you the class clown or the bully? What kind of grades did you get? Did you skip school a lot? Did you even graduate?” Kate fired off question after question.

  Greg pulled a wet wipe out of the package and dabbed his forehead. “Can I have a minute to talk?”

  “Talk as much as you like. We’re all ears,” I said.

  “I’m twenty-eight and grew up in New Berlin. I went to school there through tenth grade.”

  “What happened after tenth grade?” Kate flipped her notepad to a fresh page.

  “I quit.”

  “Why?” My unblinking stare seemed to unnerve him.

  “I didn’t like school, and I had better things to do.”

  I turned the pages of his police jacket. “Yeah, it says here your first arrest was at age sixteen. So robbery was what you considered better things to do? It looks like most of your teen years were spent in juvy.” I flipped to the next page. “Oh, I see you did graduate.”

  “What?”

  “From juvy to prison. Nice work. Apparently you committed enough robberies to land you in Waupun for five years. Who were you trying to impress, your crew? Did you think you were a tough guy?”

  He snickered and leaned across the table. “I am a tough guy.”

  I laughed. “Not from where I’m sitting. Tough guys aren’t shackled and cuffed to a jail room table and sweating up a storm because they’re being grilled by two women.” I elbowed Kate. “What a loser, right?”

  “Definitely. Have you ever had a psychiatric evaluation, Greg? You seem like the kind of guy who grew up wanting everybody’s attention. You didn’t get it from your family, so you jumped in with a bunch of roughnecks. Did they give you the attention you didn’t get from mommy?”

  Greg slammed his hand on the table.

  I raised my brows and turned to Kate. “Looks like you hit a nerve.”


  “I grew up in foster homes. I never knew my real family.”

  “Sorry to hear that, Greg, but it isn’t an excuse. So that’s why you rebelled? Your two-bit criminal crew became your family? Look how that turned out. You’re sitting in a county jail and shackled to a table. Why do you want to go back to prison so badly? Is that where your buddies are? Were you a hotshot there?”

  He snarled at us. “Maybe. Is this my psych eval?”

  Kate tapped her pen on the table. “Maybe.”

  “What do you think of the necktie killer? He’s everywhere, man. I can’t turn on the TV or open the newspaper without reading or watching something about him. The guy is gaining celebrity status.”

  “Yeah, well, that guy is me.”

  I chuckled. “Doubt it. You aren’t even in his league. You’re a wannabe thug who goes a buck fifty at best. I bet you can’t even lift a hundred-twenty-pound woman, and you’ve probably never held a necktie in your life. Admit it, the only thing you know how to do is rob the homes of innocent elderly people. You’re a pathetic excuse for a criminal.”

  Greg’s face turned crimson red as he pounded the table. “I am the necktie killer.”

  Kate leaned in. “If you really are, prove it.” She tipped her head at me. “We brought you a little gift, and we’d like a demonstration of your work. The killer is an expert at tying ties. He strangles the women to death with the tie and then finishes it off with his signature knot, but you already know that because you’re him.”

  I pulled the tie out of my purse and slid it across the table. “Go ahead and show us how to tie that perfect knot.”

  “Go to hell. I’m not a monkey who does carnival tricks.”

  “But you insist you’re the necktie killer. Don’t you want to prove it to us?”

  Greg cracked his knuckles and stared straight ahead.

  Kate jotted down notes then continued. “Fine, I guess we can move on to something else that doesn’t involve carnival tricks. I want to hear about each murder in play-by-play detail. I want every woman’s name and description. Tell us how you strangled them with the tie. How did you lure them to the location, or were they subdued with something? Where did you buy the ties, and do they have significance? Why did you dump the last victim in the Washburn County Landfill? What was her name, and when did you kill her? Is she wrapped in something? How did you get her past the gate since the lock wasn’t broken and the fence was secure?” Kate looked him up and down. “You aren’t strong enough to toss any grown woman over a six-foot fence.” She turned to me and sighed. “Maybe we should offer him a glass of water before we get down to the meat and potatoes. He’s going to be here for a while.”

  It was midafternoon by the time our interrogation was complete. Greg was as spent as a wet noodle, and after four hours of nonstop questioning, he finally admitted he wasn’t the necktie killer. We’d known that within the first ten minutes of his interview. He was a twenty-eight-year-old two-bit criminal who didn’t have a place to fit in. The only home he knew was a state prison. He would probably end up in the system for life as a career criminal who lived off the taxpayers. From what we could tell, he was someone trying to make up for the lack of attention throughout his life, missed his boys in the pen, and since the necktie killer was still at large, he thought he could pass himself off as that murderer using the nickname given him by the press.

  Kate and I left Greg in the interrogation room with his head on the table. The guy needed psychiatric help, but it wasn’t our job to place him somewhere.

  “He’s all yours,” I said once we returned to the deputy’s desk and signed out.

  The deputy lowered his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I take it he isn’t the necktie killer?”

  “Maybe in his dreams but not in the real world,” Kate said. “He didn’t even know how to tie a tie. The guy is just looking for attention.” She shook her head and sighed. “In all the wrong places. Anyway, how do we find Sergeant Landry’s office?”

  “I’ll give him a call and see if he’s free right now.” The deputy tipped his head to the left. “There’s a coffee station and some chairs down that short hallway. I’ll come and get you when he’s available.”

  I nodded a thank-you. “That sounds good to me.”

  Kate and I waited less than ten minutes. I had just enough time to slug down a cup of coffee and close my eyes for a few seconds. Footsteps sounding in the hallway told us somebody was headed our way. I glanced to my right, and the deputy and another man were approaching.

  “Detectives, the sergeant is free now. Deputy Nells will show you to his office.”

  We stood, thanked him, and walked to the elevator with the second deputy. Sergeant Landry’s office was on the second floor. The elevator doors opened to a wide lobby that led to the bull pen and several administrative offices. We turned left and followed Deputy Nells down a hallway to a closed door with a plaque that read Sergeant Kenneth Landry. Nells gave the door two raps and waited for a response.

  “Come in.”

  Nells opened the door and allowed us through. “Here you go, Detectives.”

  Sergeant Landry stood, reached over his desk, and shook our hands. He glanced at the wall-mounted clock and scratched his cheek. “He must have put up a bit of resistance.”

  I waved off the comment. “Nothing we couldn’t handle, sir. We’re good at resistance.”

  “Have a seat, Detectives. Let’s go over your findings.” Landry pointed at the moss-green guest chairs facing his desk. “What’s your take on Greg Horton? Do you think he’s actually the necktie killer, or is he just blowing smoke?”

  Kate spoke up. “He was definitely blowing smoke. When all was said and done, he admitted he wasn’t the necktie killer. The guy has serious displacement issues and is looking for any attention he can get. Honestly, sir, I think he just wants to belong somewhere, and prison seems to be his place of choice.”

  “Well, we can’t throw him back in prison for making false statements. That would cost the taxpayers money.”

  I added my two cents. “From what we got out of Greg, he seems like the kind of guy who would commit another crime just to go back inside where he feels comfortable. He definitely needs psychiatric help, but who knows if that will change anything.”

  “So if we release him, he’ll likely commit a crime and be back here in a few days.”

  “That’s probably true, sir,” Kate said. “Maybe he belongs in a halfway house or something along those lines.”

  Landry rubbed his brow. “Yeah, I’ll see what the county offers. At least now you can put the landfill situation to rest.” He stood and shook our hands. “Appreciate your help, Detectives. Can you find your way out?”

  “Yep, we’ve got it.” Kate and I showed ourselves out, updated Jack that the landfill search could definitely stop, and headed back to North Bend.

  “I’m starving. Let’s grab a burger at a drive-through.” Kate looked at the clock. “It’s almost time to call it a day.”

  “Don’t jinx us by saying that. Anything can happen in the next half hour.”

  Kate frowned. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  Chapter 5

  “Need some help, Matt?”

  Matt spun to see the silhouette of his neighbor, Tim Quarles, who was standing by the overhead garage door. Several boxes crashed to the floor when he bumped against them. “Tim, I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. What are you doing?” Tim walked into the tightly packed garage. “Looks like this place could use some organization.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m about to do. I’m looking for a large trunk I know is buried against the wall somewhere. Jenna wants to pack stuff that’s just filling up the corners. You know how it is living in these tin cans. If you don’t stay on top of things, the piles keep getting bigger.”

  Tim pocketed his right hand and jangled his change. “So do you need help? I’m not busy right now, and it won’t take long to find that trunk if two guys are plowing away at this mess.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Why don’t you just buy a big tote instead? They’re lightweight and easy to haul around.”

  “Totes that size are twenty bucks each. The trunk is good enough.”

  “Sure, I get it. Why spend money on something you don’t need, right?”