Ice (A Chris Matheson Cold Case Mystery Book 1) Page 13

  Chris felt his blood boil up into his face. He could feel his cheeks turn red with anger. He tightened his grip on the coffee mug.

  “Felicia believed Rod because she couldn’t imagine him lying about something like that.”

  “We dated for almost a year,” Chris said in a low voice. “We were intimate with each other.”

  Helen nodded her head in complete agreement.

  “How could she—”

  “Felicia isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer,” she said. “I know that for a fact. I wrote all of her English and history papers from seventh grade through senior year.”

  Chris chuckled. “And all through high school, I tutored her in both math and science.”

  “So, what did she do?”

  “She brought you and me together,” he said.

  Helen shot him a coy grin. When his eyes met hers, she turned her attention to her coffee.

  “I still can’t believe Felicia was stupid enough to believe Rodney about me having sex with my CO.”

  “She figured it out,” she said, “after he used the same lie years later to explain why he got turned down in favor of another deputy for a position with the state police.”

  “That son of a bitch,” he said in a low voice.

  “I know he used to be your best friend, Chris.”

  “‘Used to be’ is right.”

  “Rodney always did have a devious streak. So did Felicia. Don’t forget about how the two of them sneaked around behind our backs.”

  Chris’s cell phone vibrated to signal a text message.

  “They were our friends, and I do like Felicia,” she said, “but I wouldn’t trust her or Rodney as far as I could throw them.”

  Chris read the text message on the screen. It was from Bruce: Red Alert. Emergency Club Meeting at Library ASAP. Break in the Graduate Case.

  Chris texted back. Library closed due to weather.

  That’s why we’re meeting there, was Bruce’s reply.

  Three vehicles were parked in the library’s back parking lot when Chris and Sterling arrived. To Helen, he explained the urgent need to leave on his daughters getting into a fight and his mother ordering him home to help her keep the peace.

  Bruce’s text had come at an inopportune time. Chris would have preferred to spend more time with Helen. He felt as if he was gradually chipping away at the wall that she had put up between them. Where that wall came from and why she had put it up, he had no idea.

  Since Elliott had a key to the building, the Geezer Squad had let themselves in and were already setting up a portable squad room in the library’s adult section. Jacqui had pulled out a white board and was writing names in columns across the top. Elliott had removed a top from a folder box and extracted five folders, which he set in piles across the length of the table. Each pile contained photographs of murder victims and crime scenes.

  Bruce had put two bottles of white wine in an ice bucket and was opening two bottles of red wine. He also had a tray of cheese resting in the middle of the table. “Hope you’re hungry, Kid. Francine is picking up a deli tray for our lunch. It may be a long afternoon.” With the cork screw, he pulled the cork out of the second bottle of red wine.

  Bruce stopped when he saw Sterling on his leash. “That’s a dog.”

  “His name is Sterling.” Elliott reached over to pat the dog on the head. “How are you doing, Sterl-man.” Sterling offered Elliott his paw. Elliott shook it with a grin. “I guess he’s fitting in.”

  Chris detached the leash. “I had to rescue him from Emma this morning. She had dressed him in a pink tutu.”

  “Pink is not his color.” Jacqui stopped in mid-stroke to look at the dog who sat next to her to stare up at what she was writing. She swallowed. “That’s one big dog.”

  Chris grabbed his stomach when he saw the cheese tray. He felt as if he had been eating non-stop since he had woken up that morning. “Didn’t I just have breakfast with most of you?”

  “Not with me, you didn’t,” Bruce said. “I was snuggling with my wife who took the morning off.” He held out the tray. “Have some gouda. It’s to die for.”

  Hoping he wouldn’t make another offensive mistake while tasting the cheese, Chris took a slice. “Did any of you see the newspaper this morning?”

  “Do you mean the Martinsburg paper?” Elliott asked. “The one with your picture on the front page—above the fold?”

  “Victor Sinclair has asked the sheriff to reopen the Sandy Lipton case,” Chris said, “and I have a feeling I know who’s leading that investigation. Deputy Sheriff Rodney Bell.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Bruce said.

  “Of course you wouldn’t,” Chris said. “Because I’m the one who’s going to land in jail. Not you.”

  “We’re going to find Sandy Lipton,” Jacqui said while double checking the spelling of one of the names she was writing on the board. “And when we do, we’ll have everything we need to clear you. The evidence doesn’t lie.”

  His ears perked up, Sterling cocked his head to study the names.

  “In the meantime, Victor Sinclair is going to take what circumstantial evidence they do have to the grand jury to try to have me indicted.”

  “The FBI cleared you,” Elliott said. “You have an alibi.”

  “But they could still claim I hired someone to make Sandy disappear,” Chris said, “or someone with influence took care of the situation for me.”

  “Your father,” Bruce said while pouring a glass of red wine into a goblet.

  “He isn’t alive to defend himself,” Chris said.

  “But you are,” Bruce said, “and so are we. You’re forgetting that your father was our friend. None of us are going to let Victor Sinclair, or anyone else, drag his name through the mud. Or yours for that matter.”

  “Or Doris’s,” Elliott said. “Especially not Doris’s.”

  “Don’t worry about Victor Sinclair.” Bruce held Chris’s gaze. “I will take care of him.”

  The low tone in Bruce’s voice sent a chill through Chris’s spine. “How?”

  “Trust me.”

  Jacqui had finished listing the case information on the white board. “When Bruce says ‘trust me,’ then you can trust him,” she told Chris.

  “But—”

  “Best not to ask any questions,” she said in a whisper. “Less you know the better.” She raised her voice to announce that they were ready to begin the meeting.

  “Ray has been checking through the case files for the other Graduate Slaughterer victims this morning,” Bruce said. “He’ll be joining us. Only problem is that we don’t have the password to the library computer so that we can Skype him in. Otherwise, we’d have to put him on one of our laptops.”

  Aware of all eyes on him, Chris reached for another slice of cheese. Casually, he bit into the piece. The corners of his lips curled. “And you think I know the password?”

  “I know you know the password,” Elliott said. “Doris told me that you were her go to guy for the library’s IT stuff.”

  “Why do you think we let you into the club?” Bruce asked.

  Jacqui plopped into the chair in front of the desktop computer and powered it on. Elliott hooked up the webcam. Chris and Bruce stood behind Jacqui while they waited for the home screen to appear.

  “You may want to write this down to use in case I’m not here when you want to log on,” Chris said.

  Elliott grabbed a pen and notepad from the table and stood ready to write.

  “Username—all lowercase—is ‘doris’.”

  Jacqui rolled her eyes before typing the name.

  “Password—all lowercase—p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d-1.” Chris looked over at Elliott, who studied the letters he had written on the notepad. “I can give it to you again if I spelled it too fast.”


  “‘Password1’ is her password?” Jacqui asked with a scoff as she continued to open Skype to connect to Ray on the other end.

  “I had to put my foot down to make her agree to the 1 to make it just a tiny bit harder to crack.”

  Chris turned back to the table for another slice of cheese, this one with a cracker, to find Sterling sitting in a chair at the table. To his surprise, the dog was not eating any of the food only a foot away from his snout. He appeared to be waiting for them to start the meeting.

  Francine breezed through the door carrying a big tray of lunchmeat and cheeses. A plastic grocery bag containing a loaf of whole wheat bread swung from her arm. “I hope you’re all hungry.” She stopped when she saw the German shepherd sitting at the table. “I see we got another new member in our group. If I had known I would have gotten dog biscuits.”

  “He just had two big biscuits,” Chris said.

  “Is that a dog sitting next to the Kid?” Ray asked.

  “This is Sterling,” Elliott said while patting the dog on the head. “Sterling, this is Ray and Francine.”

  His ears fell back, and he opened his mouth to allow his tongue to hang out. The German shepherd held up his paw for Francine to shake.

  Taking his paw, she bowed her head in a greeting. “Pleased to meet you, Sterling. Welcome to the Geezer Squad. Though I must say you look kind of young to be a retiree.” She set out the food among the case files and pictures.

  “Welcome to the Geezer Squad.” On the monitor, Ray raised his coffee mug in a welcome.

  “He’s a retired law enforcement K-9. Shot in the line of duty.” Elliott took the cover off the deli tray.

  “Retired on medical?” Bruce proceeded to pour the wine into glass goblets.

  “Psyche,” Elliott said. “Claustrophobic. They had to sedate him for me to deliver him to Chris.”

  “Didn’t need any sedation to get him in the truck this morning,” Chris said.

  “How did you cure him?”

  “I told him that Emma had a Supergirl costume.”

  “I loved Supergirl.” Francine distributed paper plates to each one, including setting a plate in front of Sterling.

  “I didn’t,” Jacqui said. “Much too cutesy for me.”

  “What female super hero did you like?”

  “Black Widow,” Ray answered with a wicked grin.

  “She’s a badass,” Jacqui said. “More my style.”

  Everyone had filled their plates. Elliott even made a turkey and cheese sandwich for Sterling, which he ate with as much decorum as he could without hands and thumbs. While they ate, Bruce went to the board on which Jacqui had listed the Graduate Slaughterer’s victims.

  “Last night, Miriam and I had dinner at a new Japanese restaurant in Purcellville—one of those that has a hibachi grill. You would never believe who was seated next to us.” Bruce pointed up at Shirley Rice’s photograph. “Dr. Ben Rice, Shirley Rice’s husband. He was there with his second wife, Collette.”

  “They were estranged at the time of Shirley’s murder,” Chris said.

  “Yes, they were,” Bruce said.

  “He was cleared as a suspect,” Elliott said. “Had an alibi for the time of his wife’s murder.”

  “Wife number two,” Jacqui said.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Bruce said. “What matters is what he told me. You see, I told him that I was a retired attorney general and all that. Believe it or not, he opened up to me about having once thought he was going to end up on trial for his wife’s murder. Well, saying nothing about my being a member of the Geezer Squad, I asked him to tell me more, and he did.”

  “What did he tell you?” Francine asked before stuffing the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth.

  “He said that the state police investigating the case were gunning for him—”

  “That’s not true,” Chris said. “Dad always thought Shirley’s murder was connected to Mona’s.”

  “Let me finish.” Bruce picked up a marker. “Ben said that if it hadn’t been for the police not finding out about the knock out, drag out fight that he had with Shirley three weeks before she’d been killed, he’s convinced that he would have been indicted for her murder.”

  “What’s significant about this fight?” Elliott asked.

  “It’s not so much the details of the fight that’s so interesting as it is the location.” Bruce wrote “Fought with Husband at Stardust Casino” under Shirley’s name on the white board. Then, he turned to them and waited while their expressions changed from confused to realization.

  Chris was the first to speak. “Mona Tabler worked at the Stardust Casino.”

  Bruce touched the tip of his nose with one hand while pointing at Chris with the other.

  “That’s the common denominator,” Francine said.

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Jacqui said. “That’s only two out of five victims.” She asked Bruce, “What was the fight about?”

  “Shirley found out that Ben had another woman. She followed him to the Stardust where he was meeting her for dinner and she confronted him—causing a scene. Security had to escort her out.”

  “I’m surprised the police didn’t find out about that,” Chris said.

  “The other woman, who is now wife number two, kept her mouth shut,” Bruce said. “This incident was three weeks before Shirley’s murder.”

  “And Ben’s alibi for the night of the murder was solid,” Elliott said.

  “As solid as his mistress saying he had been with her the whole night can be,” Jacqui said.

  “I’ll do a search of the digital case files to see if anything pops,” Ray said.

  Chris went to the white board to study the pictures of the victims. They were all middle-aged women.

  From Lancaster, Pennsylvania, Angela Romano was the first victim. She had been divorced three times. Her age was listed as forty-seven, but she appeared to be much older, with wrinkles etched in her face.

  The third victim from Mount Airy, Maryland, was Carla Pendleton, the fifty-two-year-old widow of a veteran.

  The fifth victim, three years after Shirley Rice’s murder, was Patricia Handle, a sixty-three-year-old administrative assistant with the federal government. She had never been married.

  “Doesn’t Lancaster have a bus that regularly brings people here to the casino?”

  “Sure does,” Francine said. “The casino is a big draw for people from all over. Not just for the gambling. People commute here on the buses for the shows and the food. The Stardust would be a great hunting ground for a serial killer.”

  “Hey, team,” Ray said, “I didn’t turn up anything in a word search of the files.”

  “We need to find out if any of the other victims had ever been to the Stardust Casino shortly before they were killed,” Francine said.

  “Didn’t you say that the victim in Lancaster,” Chris read the name, “Angela Romano, had told friends that she felt like she was being followed and watched?”

  “Yes,” Francine said. “We think the killer stalks his victims first to find the best time to strike.”

  “Three weeks is plenty of time for stalking—especially if he’s careful,” Bruce said.

  “He’d have been caught by now if he wasn’t,” Elliott said.

  “Mona was a hard-ass restaurant boss at the Stardust,” Chris picked up the marker and underlined the word “manager at Stardust,” that Jacqui had written under her picture. “Her domineering personality and boss job had to have drawn attention to her.”

  Using the marker as a pointer, he tapped Shirley Rice’s portrait. “Shirley confronts her husband when she catches him dining at the restaurant with another woman.” He circled the line Bruce had just written “Fought with Husband at Stardust Casino.”

  “The killer targets the victims after they draw attenti
on to themselves,” Francine said.

  “Or maybe he targets them because they draw attention to themselves,” Jacqui said. “I think before we draw any conclusions, we need to check with the other victims.”

  “You do that.” Chris put the marker on the shelf on the white board. “I’m going to the casino to find a killer.” He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair.

  As he headed for the door, Sterling leapt out of his chair to fall in behind him.

  “I’m coming with you.” Grabbing her coat, Francine rushed after him.

  “Think you’ll find a bigger story doing leg work than making phone calls, Francine?” Bruce asked.

  “Hey, we can’t deny that Beefcake has been the one seeing all the action on these cases.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “But I like Carrie Underwood.” From her seat in the back, Francine leaned between the two front seats.

  Sterling hit the radio with his paw to change the radio back to the country music station.

  “Whoever’s driving picks the music.” Chris pressed the touch screen. “I’m driving and I choose Vivaldi.” He held out his hand to block Sterling’s paw. “If you want to listen to songs about cheating men and their pretty little souped-up four-wheel drives, then you drive next time.” He slapped Sterling’s paw away from the console. “And take Mr. Itchy Paws with you.”

  Francine sat back in her seat. “What’s your plan? To put out a request across their PA system asking that all serial killers meet you at the front door?”

  “Mona was the restaurant manager,” Chris said. “Shirley Rice caused a scene after catching her husband having a dinner date. I vote we start with the restaurant staff.”

  “There’s a big employee overturn in food service. That could explain why we didn’t find any more murders fitting this guy’s MO. He’s moved out of the area and taken up killing someplace else.”

  “Didn’t Ray check the national records?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Carson Lipton is the head chef and, from what I’ve heard, he’s been with the Stardust since the mid-nineties. Maybe he’ll recall someone who seemed suspicious to him.”