The Dead Man

Chapter Thirty-four

Crime scenes are like people. Some are a confused, chaotic mess, tormented by misplaced passion or uncontrolled rage. Others are organized and well ordered with little left behind that would lead to the offender's capture and conviction. And some, like this one, are staged to give the dead man a voice that screams look what I did and there's nothing you can do about it.

An autopsy would reveal the time and manner of Anne's death, though several things were likely. The bruising around her neck was evidence that she'd been strangled. The sexual assault could have occurred before or after she was dead, or both. The killer may have raped her with the piece of wood because he was impotent or because he didn't want to leave his semen.

The killer probably worked at the institute now or in the past since someone else would not have been familiar with the sub-basement. He probably knew Anne, or at least had seen her and singled her out, though she may not have known him. Several hundred people worked at the institute, enough that he could have stalked her without her ever having a hint that he existed until their one and only encounter. However, it would have been easier for him to get her onto an elevator headed for the sub-basement if she knew him and wasn't afraid of him.

Most murder victims know their killers, spouses and partners most likely to kill the ones they love. Anne's fiance had worked at the institute and would need a tight alibi.

I thought of all those possibilities as I studied the scene from outside the closet. The other scenario I had to concede was that a serial killer was working his way through the ranks of people affiliated with the institute. A pattern was beginning to emerge.

Regina Blair had been first, pushed off a ledge, maybe even on an impulse. Tom Delaney was next, the killer becoming more proactive, staging a suicide, ratcheting up the violence with Delaney's gun. Walter Enoch's murder had been more intimate-a hand pressed over Enoch's nose and mouth, squeezing the life out of him in a careless effort to disguise the homicide as something else.

It was a pattern marked by the increased violence and boldness of Anne's murder. The careful staging of her body meant that the killer was in control of the moment of death but the pattern meant the opposite. The killer was losing control, taking less time between victims while becoming less clever and more savage. If I was right, Anne was the latest, not the last, victim.

"Step away from the closet, sir."

Two uniformed officers had arrived. Both had seasoned, steady eyes. I nodded, taking note of their name badges, Sanchez and Grant. Sanchez had given the order. Carlos Morales was a step behind Sanchez.

"It's all yours," I said. "I'm Jack Davis, director of security. Carlos here found the body. Nancy Klemp called it in. She was the next person on the scene. Both of them told me that they stayed out of the closet and didn't touch anything. Milo Harper and Sherry Fritzshall were with me when I relieved Nancy. Their offices are on the eighth floor. So is mine. Let me know when you're ready to talk to them and I'll set it up."

Grant wrote it down and Sanchez followed me back to the lobby which was swarming with uniformed cops, the circle drive filled with squad cars, their red, white, and blue lights richocheting off the glass walls, television crews setting up shop in the near distance. Sherry Fritzshall stood in the center of the lobby, directing traffic as the cops asked her questions. Nancy Klemp held her ground at the front desk.

"How's she doing?" I asked Nancy as we watched Sherry work the room.

"She'll be all right. She's a hard one to run over."

A sedan snaked into the packed circle drive, finding a seam between squad cars. Detective Paul McNair jumped out of the passenger side, the detective who was driving close on his heels. They aimed for Sherry and I met them there.

"Well, Davis, you got a real homicide this time?" Mc-Nair asked.

"The victim is a young woman. Looks like she was strangled and sexually assaulted. The killer left her nude and staged the body to make a lasting impression on whoever found her. Does that qualify?"

"Good enough for me," McNair said.

"Does that mean we get a real investigation?"

"I'd like to see some identification," Sherry said, not wanting to be left out.

"I'm McNair. This is Quincy Carter. We're KCPD homicide," he said, both of them showing her their badges. "Who's in charge here?"

Carter was black, his shaved head, broad shoulders, and fresh, eager eyes a sharp contrast to McNair's sloped back and pasty face. Carter was about getting it done and McNair was about getting it over with. I wanted to ask them the same question, hoping that Carter was the one who answered.

"I'm Sherry Fritzshall and I'm in charge."

McNair looked at her then at me, waiting for me to confirm or deny. I looked at Carter, giving him an opening. He tilted his head at McNair.

"What do you need from us?" I asked McNair.

"You know the drill. There's a lot of people in this building we need to talk to and I don't want to have to chase any of them down."

"Follow me," I said, walking back to the front desk. "Nancy, do we have a PA system?"

She handed me a microphone and pushed a button on the control panel built into her desk. "Goes all over."

"May I have your attention," I said into the microphone, pausing and looking around the lobby as my voice reverberated. People stopped what they were doing and stared at the speakers hidden in the ceiling.

"This is Jack Davis, director of security. We have a police emergency. No one is in any danger and the building is secure. You may go about your regular duties but remain in or near your offices until the police have an opportunity to talk with you. Please give them your complete cooperation."

"Thanks," Carter said. "I'd like to put people at all the exits just in case someone decides to go home early."

"Nancy, give the police any help they need finding their way around," I said, pointing to the control panel. "Can you program the elevators so they can use them without a key card?"

She nodded and pushed another button.

"Sanchez can take you downstairs where the body was found," I told McNair. "I told him what I know, which isn't much. The victim's name is Anne Kendall. I'll have a copy of her personnel file when you're ready for that."

"We'll need that to find out who to notify," McNair said.

"I called her boyfriend," Nancy said. "I told him to come over but I didn't tell him why. He's on his way."

"Boyfriend?" McNair asked. "What's his name?"

"Michael Lacey. He used to work here. They were supposed to get married in June," Nancy said.

"Were they living together?" McNair asked.

"I think so," Nancy said. "Everybody does anymore."

McNair turned to Carter. "Find out if Michael Lacey made a missing person's report on Anne Kendall."

"There he is. You can ask him yourself," Nancy said, pointing to the circle drive where a man in jeans and a parka was waving his arms at the uniformed cop blocking the front door.

"You got some place quiet where we can talk to the boyfriend?" McNair asked.

Sherry answered. "There's a conference room on this level. I'll show you."

"Sanchez, go get Mr. Lacey and take him to the conference room," McNair said. "Don't ask him any questions and don't answer any. Just babysit him until we get the rest of this circus organized."

"If this is the circus, does that make Jack Davis the clown?" asked Agent Dolan, his face split with a toothy grin. "My partner and I heard your announcement, thought we'd see if you needed any help. You guys were so busy solving the crime, I didn't want to interrupt."

"Who's this asshole?" McNair asked.

I hadn't seen him get off the elevator. "His name is Dolan but he'll answer to asshole," I said.

"FBI," Dolan said, waving his ID.

"See, I told you he'd answer to asshole."

Carter turned his head to cover his laugh. McNair didn't bother.

"We've got this, Dolan," McNair said. "It's a homicide. Nothing here for the feds."

"Funny thing, we've got one too. And we think one of our suspects is in this building," Dolan said, giving me a long look that turned McNair's and Carter's eyes my way.

McNair nodded. "That is a funny thing. You got some time, why don't you go with me and Carter and the three of us will have a look at the body in the basement. Nancy, show us the way. Davis, you go wait in your office. We'll be by to see you in a little while."