Booked for Murder Page 9

  “Jesse.”

  “Having any luck cracking the log-in?”

  “Done and done.”

  I raised my brows with surprise. “No shit?”

  “Yeah, easy enough. Her initials plus her birth date and year. It’s not the best idea, but it’s common.”

  “Good. Write that down for me, and I’ll take it from there.”

  Todd handed me the slip of paper and the computer. “Good luck tracking down whatever it is you’re looking for.”

  I thanked him as I walked out with the laptop snugged against my side. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what I was looking for myself.

  Once seated, I opened the laptop and logged on. Staring at each desktop icon, I felt like an intruder—because I was. Charlotte wasn’t a stranger who had been murdered, she was an acquaintance and Steve’s mom. Her desktop was filled with private folders and family pictures, yet I had no choice but to continue. Using the information stored on her computer might be the only way to track down her killer and bring him to justice.

  Before I began, I took a moment to open the photo album. I needed something uplifting to look at before I dug into Charlotte’s private files. In front of me were family photos taken when Milton was still alive. Happiness filled their faces, and Steve, at center in most of the pictures, beamed with what I imagined was pride. He’d had wonderful parents. The folder even had photos of some parties Steve had hosted during our college years. All of us—Curt, Joe, Pete, Steve, and myself—were caught in time as we clanked beer cans. Charlotte took pleasure in being behind the lens, especially when it came to Steve. The memories made me laugh and tear up too. So much had changed in those twenty years, and much of it wasn’t for the better.

  Her emails were nothing unusual—blog posts, subscription and bill reminders, credit card statements, and the like. I returned to the desktop and clicked on the folders one at a time. The family tax returns went back ten years and appeared to be in order. Another folder contained links to senior discounts, and the next one contained all her passwords. I shook my head and chuckled.

  That figures.

  Several reading apps were available, and they reminded me that Charlotte had enjoyed a good novel. Another folder had Bills written on it. I found that odd since her file cabinet was already filled with paper statements of every bill.

  Why the duplicates?

  I opened the folder out of curiosity and couldn’t believe what stared back at me. I’d just found Charlotte’s journal. Instead of a physical diary, she kept it online, where it would be safe and discreet.

  Good for you, Charlotte. You were one smart cookie.

  I didn’t know if I could bring myself to read her private entries, only because I had known her personally. I decided to call Steve and get his approval first.

  Steve answered as soon as the phone rang in my ear. I told him that the tech department was able to access Charlotte’s computer and that I’d found her journal. I wanted, and needed, his permission to look through it.

  “That’s a tough call, Jesse, but under the circumstances, I don’t think we have any other choice. Mom would want us to find her murderer, and she’ll forgive us. I know she will. Go ahead, and I don’t need to know what she wrote. Someday, I may look through it myself, just not yet.”

  “Understood, buddy, and thanks. I hope we find a clue.”

  I hung up and poured myself a cup of coffee, knowing I’d be reading the journal for a while. Back at my desk and comfortably seated, I began reading the daily account of Charlotte’s life. Since the journal went back years, I decided to skip ahead and started at the beginning of last year. I doubted whether someone’s hatred for her had festered any longer than that without them taking action.

  I couldn’t find that aha moment I had been hoping for, but I did learn a few things about Charlotte that I didn’t previously know. She belonged to a book club, mentioned the books she had read as a beta reader, and wrote that she enjoyed reviewing them. Those were all interesting hobbies but far from earth-shattering. I found it a coincidence that Jill had worked at a bookstore for many years, yet nobody in Charlotte’s immediate circle knew Jill’s name. Scrolling through her entries, I continued to read. Charlotte hadn’t brought up a single person who was angry with her, threatened her, or even commented in a negative way about her, other than the three women from the gym. Even though she’d told Kevin that it bothered her, she wrote about even that with a positive spin. She assumed they envied her weight loss and included a happy face after the comment.

  Her final entry was Saturday before she headed out to dinner with her workmates. She’d mentioned how much she enjoyed their nights out and was looking forward to trying Cherry’s Chop Shop. Nothing else was written after that.

  With a sigh, I closed the folder and stared blankly at her computer. I would continue with the journal tomorrow and work my way backward to see if I could find anything significant, but at that moment, I could barely keep my eyes open. Reading anything on a computer for longer than fifteen minutes was a sure way to put me to sleep.

  I glanced across the bullpen. Everyone looked beat.

  “So those three women checked out? Nothing other than talking smack about Charlotte’s weight loss?”

  Henry leaned back and stretched. “Yeah, smart mouths but that’s about it.”

  Shawn spoke up. “Their backgrounds came up clean, and they all have solid alibis for Saturday night.”

  “All right, then cross their names off the list. I’m leaving, and the rest of you should too. It’s after eight o’clock, and we’ll all be back here in twelve hours, so go home and get some shut-eye.”

  I walked the hallway with Frank and ran into Lutz as he was locking his office door.

  “Guess great minds think alike,” he joked.

  “Hear anything from Patrol, Boss?” Frank asked.

  “Nope. Apparently Mr. Blass hasn’t left the house. The night patrol officers took over at six, but they’re telling Abrams the same. Blass hasn’t gone anywhere.”

  I scratched my head as we walked to the parking lot. “He will soon enough, and that’s when we’ll find those guns and whatever else he’s stashed in a different location.”

  When we reached our vehicles, Lutz patted each of us on the shoulder. “Get some rest, guys, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Chapter 24

  Before I drove out of our lot, I texted Hanna and told her I was heading home. She asked if I’d eaten yet, and I said I hadn’t. She said she was glad because dinner was on its way.

  I chuckled. I had all intentions of eating a microwave dinner and would have been satisfied with that, but Hanna was a great cook and great company. She was a woman I couldn’t often say no to, and I loved spending time with her. So did Bandit.

  I was home by 8:40, and Hanna’s car was already parked in the driveway. I had given her a key last month, and she’d given me one to her house. Neither of us took that for granted, and we respected each other’s privacy, which made our relationship easy. While I’d never expected it, I was actually falling in love.

  I came up the stairs from the lower level and found not only Bandit waiting to greet me but Hanna too. I was met with tail wags and human kisses.

  “Something smells good.”

  “It’s the pot roast I made earlier. It’s warming in the oven. Go relax on the couch, and I’ll grab a couple of beers. I’ve already fed Bandit.”

  “Thanks, hon. I really appreciate you.”

  She twisted the caps off the bottles and handed one to me then planted a kiss on my cheek. “That’s what I like to hear. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  Hanna snuggled against my left side, and Bandit curled up next to her folded legs.

  “How’s it going with those women’s murder cases?”

  “Slow. We can’t seem to get any eyewitness accounts.”

  “Do you think both were at the hand of one murderer? Someone who enjoys killing women?”

  I groane
d. “I sure as hell hope not. That would really start a citywide panic with the females of Chicago.”

  “Can you blame them? They’d all have to start carrying mace or buy guns to protect themselves.”

  “But neither of the murders were committed in their homes. Every concerned woman would need to get a gun license and a concealed carry permit if they took the weapon anywhere with them. That would involve a lot of red tape.”

  “But that’s better than being dead.”

  I had to agree, but a concealed carry gun permit wouldn’t have helped our victims. Charlotte didn’t know somebody was going to shoot through her car window and kill her, and Jill wouldn’t have been allowed to wear her firearm at work. It would have been stowed in her purse and in her locker during work hours.

  “I don’t think the murders are connected, plus we’re looking a little closer at the husband from the MaxMart killing. He did have extramarital relationships and an unusually large life insurance policy on his wife. Still, that doesn’t make him a murderer, and Steve didn’t recognize Jill Blass’s name as an acquaintance of Charlotte’s.”

  “It sounds like you have your work cut out for you.” Hanna stood and reached for my hand. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

  After a delicious meal, we watched the rest of the movie that we’d started the night before. At ten thirty, I walked Hanna out to her car, and we said good night. We each had a grueling schedule, and both of us understood the need for sleep. Back inside the house, I set the alarm and went to bed.

  Chapter 25

  The blaring alarm woke Vic—it was time. In the early hours of Tuesday morning, Jeff Vaskey would take his last breath, and better yet, he wouldn’t even know what had happened. He’d have no time to pray for redemption.

  Vic thought back to two nights earlier.

  Jill was the only one who looked me in the eyes as she was dying. I watched the life literally drain from her body. Charlotte’s death was boring. Jill’s was better, but now because of Jeff’s size, I’m playing it safe once again. I have two more people to kill after him, and their deaths have to be spectacular. I need to do my best to make that happen.

  Dressed in black pants and a black jacket, Vic grabbed the baseball bat, climbed into the car, backed out of the driveway, then slammed on the brakes.

  Damn it, I almost forgot the rubber gloves.

  Back in the house, Vic grabbed them off the kitchen counter and returned to the car. Jeff’s house was only a ten-minute drive away.

  With three hours to go before daylight, Vic had ample time to carry out the deed and get back home for several cups of coffee and breakfast before the sun broke the horizon. Vic parked just around the corner on the next street and took to the sidewalk. The process would go exactly as it had earlier that day—slip through the gate, pick the garage-door lock, and enter the house.

  Hmm… I wonder if Jeff locks that interior door at night before he goes to bed. There’s a chance I might have to pick two locks, but I hope not.

  Vic reached over the top and found the latch then gradually inched the gate forward to keep it from squeaking. At the door, Vic kneeled and repeated the process from earlier. The lock disengaged, the knob turned, and Vic continued on, holding the flashlight to guide the way.

  Now, to see if the interior door is unlocked.

  Vic turned the knob as slowly as possible, opened the door, and grinned with relief.

  Time to slip off my shoes so I don’t make a sound.

  Vic stepped into the laundry room and left the garage door open. There was no need to create unnecessary noise, and the quick burst with the flashlight guaranteed that nothing blocked Vic’s route. The hall was ten steps away. Step by step, Vic crept forward then abruptly stopped. A barely audible sound came from the master suite, and a dim light shone beyond the half-open door.

  Son of a bitch. Is he watching TV in the middle of the night, or did he just fall asleep with it on?

  It was a risk Vic had to take. Peeking through the one-inch space where the door and hinges connected, Vic saw him. A low gurgle came from his open mouth as he sawed logs. Jeff didn’t appear to be a problem, but the light being on was unnerving. Already gloved, Vic raised the baseball bat and inched closer. Jeff turned in his sleep, coughed, and punched the pillow. Vic froze two feet from the side of the bed and waited for Jeff to settle back into a deep sleep. Suddenly, and far from what Vic had expected, Jeff threw off the blankets, rose, and stumbled to the bathroom.

  Son of a bitch! I’ve got to catch him off guard, and there isn’t enough space in the bathroom to swing the bat.

  Vic took a position behind the bathroom door and waited. As soon as Jeff stepped out, his head would explode from the bat’s impact. Hitting him from behind was the only way to take him by surprise.

  The toilet flushed, the light went out, and Jeff crossed the threshold into the bedroom. Vic lifted the bat and swung.

  The sound of Jeff’s skull cracking was a dead giveaway that the bat had connected with force. He grunted and fell forward as blood sprayed from his head wound. Vic stood over him and swung again, this time opening an enormous cavity in his skull. Any fight Jeff might have had quickly vanished, and his body went limp on the floor alongside the bed. Vic gave him a final blow for good measure, kicked his leg to see if there was any twitch left in the man, and saw none. Jeff Vaskey was stone-cold dead, and the room wore blood spray as high as the ceiling. The bat was slippery from all the blood. Vic grabbed the bathroom towel and rolled the bloody gloves, socks, and bat inside then backed out of the room and returned to the garage door.

  I need to cover my hand with my coat sleeve to open and close the doors, then put my shoes on, and I’ll be on my way.

  Home by four thirty, Vic wasn’t quite ready for breakfast after seeing a room full of brain matter mixed with blood spray. Stripping out of the blood-spattered clothes and showering before going back to bed was a far better idea.

  Chapter 26

  We gathered in the roll call room, and Lutz went over the morning updates. There was nothing new to report on our latest cases, and nothing had been solved during the night. After everyone gave their updates on the part of the investigations they’d been involved in, he asked for ideas and suggestions.

  “What’s going on with Blass?” Frank asked.

  “Patrol followed him to a funeral home a half hour ago. Mr. Blass is still inside. That’s all we have for now.”

  “We need to reach out to the public, Boss. Charlotte’s case is at a standstill, and Jill’s will likely be too. The witnesses we interviewed Saturday night were tipsy and less than reliable. As time passes, people’s recollection of that night will lessen, so we need them to come forward now. Someone passing the scene in a car or a tenant looking out a window might have noticed something off at the time of the shooting.”

  “But we’ve interviewed everyone in a three-block area,” Tony said.

  I let out a sigh of frustration. “We need help however we can get it, or both cases will go cold.”

  Lutz lifted his hands. “Okay, settle down, people. I’ll put something together and give it to the local news stations. According to Forensics, they didn’t get any prints off the knife or the shopping cart in the Jill Blass murder. This time of year, everyone wears gloves, so we weren’t expecting much help there. Don said no DNA was found under Jill’s nails, and that’s likely because she was also wearing gloves. I don’t believe her murder was a random killing, so either Mitch was involved, or someone he or Jill knew was. I want all his past and current girlfriends interviewed. Every person that Jill knew needs to be interviewed as well. Go to the bookstore and talk to every employee. Find out if Jill ever mentioned Mitch being abusive or if their marriage was on the rocks.” Lutz turned his attention to me. “What’s going on with Charlotte’s journal?”

  “Nothing that would raise any suspicion, but I only went back a year. Today, I’ll start at the beginning and read the whole thing.”

  Lutz slapped the podium
. “Okay, hit the streets, talk to everyone—family and friends—and learn what you can in both cases. There’s a couple of killers roaming our streets, and we need them stopped before another woman is murdered. That’s it, so get busy, people. We’ll gather again at five o’clock, and I want to hear that there’s been some progress made.” The room emptied, and Lutz approached Frank and me. “Meet me in my office in five.”

  Frank frowned as Lutz continued on. “What do you think that’s about?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have the slightest idea, but I’m grabbing a coffee first.”

  Minutes later, Frank and I both had coffee—I had one for Lutz as well—and entered our commander’s office.

  “Here you go, Boss. You can never have too much coffee in front of you.” I slid his across the desk and took the guest chair closest to the door. Frank sat in the one near the window. “So, what’s up?” I blew over my coffee and waited.

  “I need help putting together something for the news stations. You two are working both cases and would have the most insight as to what we need from the public.”

  I sighed. That part was easy. The way our luck had been, I had assumed Bob had more bad news to share.

  He frowned. “You look relieved, Jesse.”

  “I am. I thought you were going to give us more bad news.”

  “The day is still young, McCord, and anything can happen.”

  Frank, Lutz, and I put together a plea asking for the public’s help. We needed information on the drive-by shooting of Charlotte Sanders on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Drive from Saturday night as well as the Sunday night stabbing of Jill Blass in the MaxMart parking lot on East Forty-Seventh Street and South Cottage Grove Avenue. We didn’t have eyewitness accounts in either case, and all callers with information would be taken seriously and could remain anonymous if they chose.

  Lutz looked over the information we’d gathered. “We’ll air the driver’s license photo of each woman along with the date, time, and location of the murders and see if anything shakes out. If that doesn’t help, we may as well be pissing in the wind.”