Maniacal: A Detective Jade Monroe Crime Thriller Book 1 Page 5

  “No shit? Why would a twenty-one-year-old college student studying behavioral sciences want to live with her older sister, the cop?”

  I gave him a dirty look. “Because she loves me, but the real reason is she says Bruce grosses her out.”

  Jack laughed and gave me a wink. “Or maybe she wants you as her test subject. She can practice her shrinking on you, but in her defense, Bruce grosses me out too. What’s he up to now that’s giving her the creeps?”

  “Who knows? She says he leers at her when he’s had too much to drink. Apparently, Mom doesn’t want to admit her choice of a third husband was her worst so far.”

  “Do you want me to rough him up?”

  I laughed and knuckled Jack’s arm. “Thanks for the offer. It would have been better if my parents had never divorced. Dad is such a great guy. I hope you’ll have a chance to meet him someday. I just wish he didn’t live so far away. He’s due for a visit, though, and Amber could use some Dad time.”

  “Yep, I was at the family cottage in Hudson the last time your old man was in town. Well, if your dad is anything like the stories I’ve heard, he’d probably take Bruce out with one swipe. Tom Monroe—the living legend.”

  I grinned. “He is a tough one, that’s for sure.”

  “What is he now… a captain?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “The San Bernardino Sheriff’s Department, right?”

  “That’s right, and I’m really proud of my old man. He’s one of the good guys. He taught me everything I know. My mom really screwed up when she let him go.”

  Chapter 7

  I pulled up the addresses on my phone’s GPS as Jack drove. We arrived at the first house, which was the residence of Kevin Bryant, at ten a.m. Not one house on the block looked any better than the next. They were all in shambles.

  I patted Jack’s shoulder. “I’m not looking forward to this. Glad we’re here together, partner.” We took the wooden steps up to the porch of the brown brick two story and rapped on the door. Several dogs barked from farther inside. “What’s with the damn dogs around here?”

  The door creaked, and a woman looking to be in her early forties peered out at us from the six-inch opening the chain lock allowed. From what we could see, she wore a threadbare green chenille bathrobe, and her hair was in disarray. She held a cigarette in her left hand. She leaned against the doorframe and looked us up and down.

  “What do you want?” she asked. A sneer lifted the right side of her mouth.

  We showed her our badges and introduced ourselves, saying we needed to speak with Kevin.

  “I’m his mama, and Kev’s not here.”

  “Ma’am, it’s important that we speak to him. It’s in reference to a friend of his, Morris King,” I said.

  “Haven’t seen him.”

  She blew a puff of smoke in my face.

  “Ma’am, Kevin isn’t in trouble, but we do need to speak with him. Do you have any idea where he might be?” Jack asked.

  “Look at the park by the hoops. Kev and his boys hang out there.” She pointed down the street and slammed the door in our faces.

  I placed our cards in her mailbox before we left.

  Jack smirked as we headed back to the car. “Guess she has issues with the law. Let’s check the park and see who we come up with. How lucky could we get if they’re all together? We wouldn’t have to hunt them down one by one.”

  “Yeah, don’t hold your breath. I’m picturing a group of tight-lipped punks or a bunch of runners. Good thing I wore flats.”

  Jack parked the car in the lot and killed the engine. We exited and walked toward the basketball hoops while I scanned the surroundings. A large grassy area with picnic tables was directly to our right. Beyond that was a playground. Half a dozen kids were enjoying the warm day on the swings and monkey bars. Garbage cans were plentiful, but it appeared that the trash never made it quite that far. Four guys were shooting hoops, and four more were seated on the pavement off to the side of the court. They smoked cigarettes and drank malt liquor from forty-ounce bottles even though it was barely after ten o’clock. All eyes were on us as we approached.

  “Gentlemen,” I said.

  They snickered and hooted but stayed seated.

  Jack took over, looking a touch more threatening than I did. He explained that nobody was in trouble and we were only looking for four guys to speak with. He called out Devon, Kev, Marshon, and James. Two of the boys shooting hoops turned toward us. The one with the ball bounced it continuously while sizing us up. The other pressed his hands deep into the front pockets of his baggy pants. I kept my eye on him.

  “I’m Kev, and he’s Marshon,” the one with the basketball said as he pointed to the guy with his hands in his pockets, “but we don’t talk to pigs unless we’re under arrest. Are you arresting us all?”

  The group laughed. Kev was posturing for his boys and trying to act tough. We weren’t fazed and actually expected that type of behavior.

  I approached Kev and stared him down. “I’m sure you’re well acquainted with being arrested, but that isn’t why we’re here. We need information regarding Morris King. We’ve been told he hangs with you.”

  “Haven’t seen him,” Kev said. He lit a cigarette and glared at us. “Why should we help you? Why are you talking about Morris?”

  “Because Morris is dead, and we need to find his killer. If you really are his friends, you’ll help us.”

  Chatter erupted from everyone around the hoops.

  “No way, man. Morris can’t be dead,” Marshon said. He shook his head and paced the court. Anger and frustration lit up his face.

  “I’m afraid it’s true. Now can we just have a few minutes of your time? Anything you say could be helpful in finding his killer. We need to know the last time any of you saw Morris and where. Who are his friends and did he have any enemies? We only need a few minutes,” I said.

  Marshon, Kev, and two other young men followed us to a picnic table and reluctantly sat down on the other side. I had my notepad ready, and Jack began asking the questions.

  Marshon said that Morris’s friends were all there and accounted for. They were the bunch at the basketball court.

  “He didn’t run with anyone but us. We keep each other safe. We’re tight, ya know? And enemies, yeah, we got them, but this doesn’t sound right to me. Anybody killing anybody around here would be mouthing off. I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Do you have a few people in mind? Maybe somebody we can talk to?” Jack asked.

  Kev looked at Marshon and waited for a nod. “Bobby James and LeJon Clyde come to mind. That’s all we know. They live down by Center Street.”

  After we spent thirty-five minutes more of getting questions and answers, it appeared that Morris was dealing oxy and had a meeting set up late Tuesday night with someone named Dime. According to Marshon, Morris had dealt with him once in the past, but he didn’t like him. Apparently the Dime guy freaked Morris out, according to Marshon, but Morris met with him because the money was good.

  “Freaked him out in what way?” Jack asked.

  “Don’t know—just sketchy because he wasn’t one of us. Morris didn’t know what to expect.”

  “Do you have any idea what time and where they were going to meet?” I asked. “Do any of you know Dime? Is he from the area?”

  “Nah—don’t know him, never laid eyes on the dude. I went home after midnight. Morris was still waiting, over there by the hoops.” Kev pointed over his shoulder toward the basketball court. “But he did tell me he was packing a blade—just in case.”

  “He had a knife?” Jack stole a glance in my direction. “Was the park where they were going to meet?”

  “Nah, don’t think so. Some abandoned house, he said. That’s all I know. Dime told Morris to come alone—didn’t want to be seen by anybody.”

  “There’s a lot of vacant houses in the area, aren’t there?” I asked.

  “Yep, sure is,” Marshon said. “Man, he shouldn�
�t have gone alone.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I guess that will do it.” I looked over my notes. I didn’t need anyone’s addresses or phone numbers. I had everything already in their police record jackets. I passed out a handful of cards and thanked them for the information. I knew exactly where to go.

  “Jack, do you think Morris was killed with his own knife? He didn’t have a knife or a sheath on his body. The killer may have seen it and thought Morris was going to double-cross him. He could have killed him right there to keep from being killed himself. And if he was there to buy oxy, then why didn’t he take it with him?”

  “You’re right, the killing could have happened that way, but if this Dime character intended to kill Morris anyway, he would have brought his own weapon. The oxy—I have no idea. What we need to do is find the house they met at. It’s very possible that could be our crime scene.”

  I stepped up my pace and reached the passenger side door before Jack got to the car. “What kind of name is Dime anyway? Is that some type of nickname referencing a dime bag of weed, him being into drugs and all? I mean, the guy was there to buy oxy, yet it doesn’t make sense that he left it behind.” I climbed into the passenger seat, pulled the belt across my torso, and clicked it. “Okay, head to the third district precinct again. We need to update the guys and find out what was discovered at the King residence. I bet you ten bucks they have jackets on these two guys”—I glanced at my notes—“Bobby James and LeJon Clyde. I think we should plan a search of the abandoned houses in the neighborhood too.”

  When we arrived at the precinct, Jack and I sat down with Lieutenant Colgate and told him what we’d learned from Morris’s boys. I suggested searching the abandoned houses in the area. Some had to be well known as drug houses. The murder could have taken place in one of them. He agreed and said he would contact the Vacant Building Registration Department. They held records of all the abandoned buildings within the city limits.

  Lieutenant Colgate excused himself to make the call while we spoke to Aaron Davis from their forensic team. According to him, they had retrieved quite a bit of opiates and marijuana from the King residence. Five deputies and two forensic officers cleared the house. They hadn’t found anything that would lead to a potential suspect—it was a dead end.

  Lieutenant Colgate returned. “Okay, they can get us a list of every vacant residence in a ten-block grid, but they can’t get to it until tomorrow. Let’s reconvene then and decide how to proceed. Come on back after lunch. They said they’d have what we need by then.”

  “Okay, thanks, Lieutenant. See you tomorrow.”

  Jack and I got back in our car and headed to North Bend. We discussed the case the entire way. Working together as a joint effort, I was sure that between the Milwaukee PD and ourselves, we could solve the case and wrap it up. Morris King’s killer would be brought to justice soon.

  We hit the city limits, and Jack slowed the car down. “Got plans for tonight?” he asked.

  “Of course, it’s my yoga night. Wanna join me? There’s plenty of time. It doesn’t start until seven forty-five.”

  Jack smirked. “Could you see me in yoga pants doing those stupid moves?”

  “Hey, they aren’t stupid. Yoga gives me a little peace in this messed-up world, plus it keeps me limber. And yeah, I could see you in those tight little spandex pants, I’m guessing pink ones.”

  He laughed. “I think I’ll stick to being a gym rat. I have a manly image to uphold, you know.”

  Chapter 8

  Dime turned onto her street and parked a half block from her house. She lived in a decent residential neighborhood filled with ten-year-old cookie-cutter subdivision houses. Hers was a tan ranch-style home with dark green shutters. The lower part of the facade was styled with a stacked-stone veneer.

  From where he had positioned his Jeep under a maple tree along the curb, he had a perfect view of the driveway. The tree kept his identity and most of the vehicle hidden from view. He waited for her to arrive home. Tonight would be his first night of surveillance. He’d study her every move and the times she came and went. The thought made him rub his hands together in anticipation. She annoyed him, and his anger toward her was increasing. The spiral notebook sat on the console beside him. He picked it up and jotted down the date and her name, then waited some more.

  Headlights approached, and a car slowed—it was her. She pulled into the driveway, stopped without parking in the garage, and exited. A double beep and flashing headlights seemed to assure her the car was secure as she walked up the sidewalk. She unlocked the dead bolt and entered the house through the front door.

  I guess you aren’t staying in tonight, are you, bitch? Let’s find out where you’re off to. He pressed the button on the side of his watch to check the time. The face became illuminated in a light aqua color so he could read the hour and minute hands. He wrote down the time she had arrived home and waited for another thirty minutes while he drank a can of beer.

  The porch light flashed on and caught his attention. She walked out and climbed into her car. He jotted down seven thirty in his notebook. Once she backed out of the driveway and was safely a block ahead, he started his vehicle and pulled out slowly from his obscured position. He clicked on his headlights as he followed.

  She drove out of her subdivision and headed toward downtown North Bend, only a few minutes away. At the intersection of Main and Washington Street, she sat at a red light, apparently waiting for the green turn arrow. After the light changed, she turned west on Washington. He was back several car lengths. With his Jeep raised higher due to the big tires and suspension, he was able to see her car ahead of him, and it was first in line to turn.

  Go, go, go, damn it. I have to catch the turn signal, or I’ll lose her. He beeped his horn at the car directly in front of him. The driver, a young woman, appeared to be talking to somebody in the backseat, ignoring the green arrow. She looked at Dime through her back window, flipped him the bird, and then continued on. The object of his obsession had already turned left, but he made it through the light just as it went from yellow to red. He caught a glimpse of her Mustang again when her brake lights lit up and the blinker flickered. She turned right into the strip mall two blocks up. He drove by slowly and turned in at the second driveway to watch from a distance. The twenty-year-old strip mall held eight businesses. The majority were nine-to-five establishments, but three of them were still open. Pegasus Greek Diner, Yoga by Elise, and a discount store were brightly lit. He counted over twenty cars in the parking lot. He didn’t stand out as he inched his Jeep closer to her vehicle. She seemed to be preoccupied, staring down at her cell phone. He had the perfect view of her through the windows of the parked cars between them. Parked two rows back and three vehicles to her left, he watched as she exited the car and pulled several items out of the backseat. She entered the yoga studio.

  The sign above the row of windows flickered in pink neon outlined in purple. To him it looked cheap and hideous. Yoga by Elise, huh? I know one thing about you, Elise, you have no taste. Let’s find out more. He Googled the studio and read her biography. Elise had opened the business in 2005. She held three daytime classes and three evening classes every week. A longtime resident of North Bend, she was happily married with two kids under ten. Her favorite pastimes, other than teaching yoga, were gardening and bicycling. You sound as boring as hell. We need to liven things up. I’ll see what I can do about that.

  He had a perfect view of everyone inside the studio, getting ready for their class. Young moms chatted among themselves as they placed their yoga mats on the floor and got into position. The teacher stood in front, facing the class and the floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the length of the studio. The instructor was definitely Elise. She looked just like her biography photo. A blond, bubbly looking thirtysomething, she had a topknot ponytail that flopped around her head as she led the class through its yoga maneuvers. She already annoyed him. He checked the time and wrote it down. Yoga class—seven forty-five,
Thursday night.

  The class appeared to wrap up at nine p.m. when everyone gathered their mats and headed toward the door.

  He slinked down in his seat as the group of women exited. Laughter and chatter surrounded him as they made their way to their cars, some right next to his. He remained behind as the lot emptied, and the interior lights finally went out inside the studio. He watched Elise exit the building, lock the door, and head to a white Malibu sedan near the entrance at nine fifteen.

  That night, she would skate by. He only wanted to follow her home and pick out the darkest spot along the route to end her life soon.

  Chapter 9

  “Did Mr. King come in yesterday and ID Morris’s body?” Lieutenant Clark asked as he stood in his office doorway, holding a cup of coffee.

  I looked up from my desk and answered, “Yes, sir. Doug said he came in, made the ID, and signed off on the paperwork.”

  “Good. What time are you two heading back to Milwaukee?”

  “Lieutenant Colgate asked us to come back this afternoon. I guess the Vacant Building Registration Department won’t have the paperwork ready until then. The PD is going to pull the jackets for Bobby James and LeJon Clyde too.”

  “That’s good. Hopefully this case can be solved, and the sooner the better. Even though Morris was a criminal himself, he certainly didn’t deserve that brutality. Where’s Jack?”

  “He had a dentist appointment this morning. Guess it’s hard to get in these days. He didn’t want to change his appointment again.”

  “That’s fine. Keep me posted throughout the day.”

  Jack got in at ten thirty. The left side of his face was frozen, and he had to drink his coffee through a straw and hold a napkin under his lip in case he slobbered. I teased him.

  “How am I going to eat lunch?” he asked, complaining.

  “You’ll be fine in an hour or so. We’ll head out soon and have lunch in Milwaukee just before we get to the precinct. Your mouth won’t be numb anymore.”