Читать книгу The Scientology Murders - William Heffernan - Страница 13

Chapter Six

It was nine twenty before Lilly left the shop. Two older women had left before her, apparently leaving Lilly to close up for the night. Tony Rolf had moved across the street and positioned himself to the right of the door as if studying items in the window display. When Lilly stepped out and turned to lock the door he rushed up behind her, placed one hand over her mouth, and used his body to push her back into the store.

She spun out of his grasp and turned to face him. A look of fury filled her face, which quickly turned to confusion and then to fear.

“You remember me?” he hissed.

Lilly looked at his hair. It was blond now and it had initially confused her. She had thought at first that the assault was a simple robbery attempt and she had been ready to fight him off, or at least to try.

“I asked if you remember me.”

“I remember you. You’re from the church. You’re the one we used to call the albino.”

“What were you telling those cops today? Did you tell them something about me?”

“I don’t know anything about you.”

“I think I spoke to you once. I think I asked you about that dyke Mary Kate. Did you tell them that?”

Anger flared over the slur, but Lilly fought to control herself. “That’s all I knew about you. That you asked about Mary Kate, and that other church members thought you were creepy.”

“But they didn’t feel that dyke was creepy, did they?”

Lilly felt another flash of anger, a rush of adrenaline that momentarily overcame her fear. “How do you know she was a dyke? Or did you just decide she was because she turned you down?”

Rolf’s eyes widened and color came to his pale complexion. “Are you suggesting I tried to initiate something sexual with her? Are you implying that I’m 1.1?” He moved forward, using his body to push her back until she was pressed against a display case.

Lilly’s mind raced with possibilities for escape. Without warning she drove a knee into his groin. It wasn’t a solid hit, but it was enough to move him back, and she spun away and raced to the back of the store where her family kept a baseball bat to use against would-be robbers. She heard a loud growl and looked back over her shoulder. Rolf was moving toward her, his eyes wild, and she saw the flash of a knife in his hand.

She reached the storage room where the bat was kept and grabbed it, swinging it as she turned to face him. The first blow hit his arm and he howled in pain and she raised the bat again. He lunged at her and she felt a sharp blow to her stomach, then another to her chest.

Rolf stopped and watched her.

Lilly looked down at her shirt and saw dark stains spreading out from her stomach and chest. Confusion came to her face and she looked up at Rolf as if he might tell her what was wrong. “What have you done?” she asked, no longer sure to whom the words were directed. Then her eyes began to cloud and she started to fall. She never felt herself hit the floor.

* * *

Harry got two calls to his cell phone, one after the other, before he had poured his first cup of coffee. First Max Abrams and then Vicky; both told him that Lilly Mikinos had been murdered in her family’s Tarpon Springs shop.

Abrams picked up Harry at the marina ten minutes later and headed for Tarpon Springs.

“I recognized the name when it came through this morning and realized it was the same woman you were going to interview yesterday,” Abrams explained. “Do you think her murder has any connection to our case?”

“It’s possible,” Harry said. “It’s also possible it was just a robbery that happened after Vicky and I talked to her.”

“You actually think it could have been a coincidence?”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said. “I don’t believe it either. But if it wasn’t, it raises an ugly possibility.”

“That somebody followed you.”

* * *

Vicky was already there when they arrived at the Mikinos store. She looked pale, shaky.

“One of Lilly’s aunts called me this morning to tell me what happened,” she told them. “She wanted to know if Lilly’s murder had anything to do with our meeting yesterday.”

“What did you tell her?” Harry asked.

“What could I tell her? I said I didn’t know.”

“What do you think?”

“It had to, Harry. Nothing else makes sense.”

“Not a coincidence?”

“Don’t believe in them.”

Harry glanced at Abrams. “I don’t think we could sell that idea to anyone,” he said.

* * *

They met with the two Tarpon Springs detectives who had caught the case and filled them in on their meeting with Lilly the previous day, along with the fact that she had been a friend of Mary Kate O’Connell, the victim in the case they were investigating.

Max had brought several copies of the latest sketch that the police had produced along with the caveat that it didn’t have the wholehearted endorsement of Jocko Doyle. “But it’s the best we’ve got,” he said.

The Tarpon detectives were treating the case as a murder resulting from a robbery, based on the fact that the cash register had been cleaned out, but said they would show the artist’s sketch around the Sponge Docks and keep a two-way line of communication open until the case was resolved. Vicky, Harry, and Max then headed to the medical examiner’s office to see what had been learned from the preliminary examination of Lilly’s body.

* * *

The ME’s office was located in a nondescript two-story building a short distance from the sheriff’s office on Ulmerton Road. They found Lilly’s body in the main autopsy room being prepped for a postmortem examination. The body was naked and an autopsy technician named George Rios was going over it inch by inch, looking for any DNA evidence the murderer might have left behind.

“What’s the story, Georgie?” Harry asked.

Rios looked up from his work and smiled. “Harry, Vicky, Max, you guys on this case?”

“Max is,” Harry said. “Tarpon is handling this murder, but it’s connected to a murder in Clearwater. That’s Max’s case. Vicky and I are just interested parties.”

“Which Clearwater murder was that?” Rios asked.

“Mary Kate O’Connell.”

“I don’t remember that one,” Rios said. “Musta come in on my day off.”

“Did you find anything on your preliminary exam?” Max asked.

“Nothing significant. But I understand we found some hair on her clothing that could give us some DNA. We also found some clothing fibers. I haven’t cleaned out her nails yet. There could be more there. I’m hoping for some tissue samples if she fought the killer.” He shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Who’s the doc handling the post on this one?” Max asked.

“Angela Sugarman. She’s due to start in about fifteen minutes.”

“We’ll wait,” Harry said. “Thanks.”

Harry stared at the pale, lifeless body, the muscles slack, the back darkened by lividity. The eyes were partially open and he tried to look into them but they had already begun to cloud over. One word seemed to be coming from Lilly’s corpse but it didn’t make sense to him.

Vicky had been uncommonly quiet and when Harry glanced over at her he found that she, too, was staring at Lilly’s body. He found it strange looking down at the young body after just speaking with the woman the previous day. He could only imagine how Vicky felt. Vicky had known Lilly most of her life and had set up the meeting that may have led to her death. Now she was peering down at her on an autopsy table, all of it just settling in her mind, becoming real to her.

Harry slipped an arm around Vicky’s shoulder. “You doing okay?”

“No,” she responded in barely a whisper. “I remember going to her birthday party when she was seven years old. Looking at her now, I feel like shit.” She turned and gave him the hardest look he had ever seen on her face. “And Harry, I’m telling you now: I want this bastard bad and I don’t care what it takes to get him.”

* * *

Dr. Angela Sugarman arrived for the post with the air of a diva moving to center stage. She was a short, heavyset woman somewhere in her late forties with a doughy face that softened her large, sharp nose and broad forehead. Her blond hair clearly had help from her hairdresser and her nails bore the signs of a recent manicure. She knew Max and Harry and quickly introduced herself to Vicky. “I’ve seen you around the building several times but I don’t think I’ve ever worked one of your cases.” She paused. “You look angry. Is everything okay?”

“I knew the victim,” Vicky said. “I grew up with her.”

“Then you shouldn’t be here for the post. That’s not the last memory you want to have of your friend.” Dr. Sugarman raised her chin toward Lilly’s corpse. “This looks like a pretty clear-cut case. We have two entry wounds from what appears to be a wide-bladed knife; one to the heart, one to the liver. Each would have been fatal. You wait in my office or call me in an hour and I’ll give you the results.” The woman’s words left no room for argument. Vicky was being dismissed.

Harry put his arm around her again. “Come on, I don’t need to see this either. I’ve seen enough autopsies to last me a lifetime. Max can fill us in.”

* * *

Max came out an hour later to find Harry and Vicky seated under a tree near to where they had parked their cars. “You guys look like you’re waiting for a picnic lunch to be delivered,” he said.

“What did Sugarman find?” Vicky asked, dismissing Max’s attempt at levity.

“Nothing that wasn’t obvious. The murder weapon is a six-inch-long double-edged blade that’s two inches wide in the upper part then tapers to a sharp point, just long enough to reach every vital organ in the body. There were some contusions indicating that she fought her attacker, and like Rios told us, they found some hairs on her clothing. They were blond—blond from a bottle.”

“What was the underlying color?” Vicky asked.

“White,” Max said. “According to the lab report, the original color of the hair was pure white.”

“Like an albino,” Harry said, then turned to Vicky. “That was the one word I got from her: albino.”

“So it was that son of a bitch Rolf,” Max said.

“Let’s find him. Let’s find him now.” The tone of Vicky’s voice was so fierce that it sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.