Then she knew. A cry rose to her throat. She brought a hand to her mouth to hold it back.
Marcus.
Her admirer had killed him. For her.
26
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
4:45 p.m.
Patti looked at the forensic odontologist’s report, bitterly disappointed. The dental records proved that Kitten Sweet was not their Jane Doe.
It changed nothing. Franklin was still in jail, charged with theft and felony possession of a firearm. He wasn’t going anywhere.
But it left them with nothing-no new angle to investigate, nothing new to tie Franklin to Sammy’s murder and the Handyman victims.
She had broken the law, the very thing she had sworn to uphold. She had involved one of her detectives, put both their careers on the line. And for what?
“You’ve got the wrong guy.”
She had managed to put that call out of her mind, managed to convince herself it’d been some crank. Somebody with an ax to grind with her, which wasn’t such a far-fetched concept.
Chief Howard had appointed her to the post-Katrina tribunal to judge officers who had gone AWOL during and after the storm. When an officer took an oath, it was to serve the public, no matter what. Some of the stories had broken her heart, but where did you draw the line? “Protect and Serve” meant just that, even when it was really inconvenient.
Patti picked up the list of names she’d assembled and scanned them. The officers ranged from first-year rookies to veterans with twenty-five years under their belt. She read through the names, able to picture each and every one. Could one of them be this angry at her?
What happened if she assumed the caller’s claim was legit? They had the wrong guy. Just as Franklin claimed, he had found the gun in City Park. It fit. Sammy stumbles upon the Handyman and his victim. The Handyman manages to get Sammy’s gun, kills him with it, dumps both victims in the park, then disposes of the weapon as quickly as possible.
Right there at the park.
So who made the call?
Someone who’d known about the gathering at Shannon’s. A cop? Someone connected to a cop or the force?
“You don’t look happy.”
Patti glanced up. Spencer stood in her office doorway. “I’m not. Take a look.”
She slid the report across the desk. He strode over, picked it up and scanned the information.
Tony ambled into the office. “Who died?”
Spencer handed him the findings. Tony read it, then handed it back. “So much for that anonymous tip.”
Patti worked to keep her disappointment from showing. Spencer had lied to his partner about how they’d gotten Kitten Sweet’s name as the possible Jane Doe. She hadn’t asked him to, but hated that she had put him in the position of having to choose between them.
“Did the search of Franklin’s apartment turn up anything?” she asked.
“More stolen merch,” Spencer replied. “And a truly amazing collection of adult magazines. Nothing bizarre, just straight nudie shots.”
“Checked the freezer,” Tony offered. “Hamburger meat and Eskimo Pies, no hands or other body parts. No saws, clippers or anything else that could be used to sever a human hand.”
“What about a computer?”
“Nope. The answering machine was clear and his only mail was a stack of bills and advertising circulars. Can you believe somebody was offering him a MasterCard? Go figure.”
Dammit. She stood and crossed to her single window. She gazed out at the brilliant spring day. “Franklin’s not our guy.”
“With all due respect, Captain,” Tony said, “he had the gun. He placed himself at the scene.”
She turned and faced them. “Placing himself at the scene is circumstantial.”
Spencer and Tony exchanged glances. Spencer spoke first. “The old rule of thumb about somebody who looks guilty, being guilty, usually proves true. It certainly fits in this case. The gun is strong physical evidence connecting him to the grave and the victims in it. The man is a convicted rapist. He’s also a thief and a liar.”
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I have to be sure. One hundred percent positive.”
“What can we do?”
“Find me a victim. If I can link Franklin to just one of the Handyman victims, even a weak link, I’ll be satisfied.”
“Captain O’Shay, could I have a word?”
The chief of police stood in her doorway. She smiled and waved him in. “Of course, Chief. The detectives and I were just finishing.”
He greeted both detectives. “How’s your dad’s retirement going, Spencer?”
“Not bored with fishing yet.”
Spencer’s dad-Patti’s brother-in-law-had been career NOPD. He’d never risen above the rank of detective, but that had been okay with him. He’d simply loved the work. He’d retired a year ago. Hurricane Katrina and Sammy’s death had been catalysts for the decision.
As the two detectives exited the office, Patti told them to keep her posted, then turned to her boss. “What can I do for you, Chief Howard?”
He ignored her question and asked one of his own. “How are you, Patti?”
Something in his tone raised her hackles. “I’m very well, thank you.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been by before this. Hell of a thing, uncovering Sammy’s badge that way.”
“To tell you the truth, I’m relieved. To finally know what went down and have a trail to follow.”
“Seems to me the trail’s led you to your guy. Congratulations.”
She frowned slightly. Chief Howard never did anything without intent. A simple “Congratulations” was anything but simple. So why was he here?
“Thank you, Chief, but I’m not certain we do.”
His eyebrows shot up. “That surprises me, Captain. I’ve reviewed the case and think it’s strong.”
“True. But until we have a legitimate tie between Franklin and one of the Handyman’s victims, it’s not ironclad.”
Chief Howard was quiet a moment. “I’m distressed to hear you say that.”
“I’m sorry, sir. That’s the way I see it.”
“Patti,” he said softly, “you have to trust the process. If he’s charged, tried and found guilty, you’ll have to accept it.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
His cell phone buzzed; he checked the display, then slipped it back into his pocket. “Perhaps this case is too close? I could turn it over to someone else? After the stress of Sammy’s death, no one would think less-”
“That’s absolutely not necessary,” she said. “I’m in charge of ISD, this case and the investigation. Franklin’s been charged and is being held on the theft and weapons charge. We have time to dig.”
“True, if you feel you have the manpower.”
Which meant he didn’t.
Wrap it up, move on.
“Give me a little more time. The forensic sculptor is working on a facial reconstruction now. It should be ready within a couple of days. We’ll publicize the image, see if anyone recognizes her.”
“Agreed. Anything else?”
He knew about the dental records. Probably the call she had gotten at Shannon’s, as well. Little slipped by Chief Howard. That’s the way he ran his department.
“We got a tip about a missing young woman. Had the forensic odontologist compare her dental records with Jane Doe’s teeth. They didn’t match.”
He nodded. Obviously this was not news. And luckily, he didn’t ask about the source of the “tip.”
“Anything else?”
“An anonymous call to me. At Shannon’s.”
“The night of the surprise party.” The chief had made a brief appearance, then left.
“Yes, the caller said we ‘had the wrong guy.’”
“And you believe this person? He presented you with proof?”