The Devil's Water: Scenic City Murder Series #1 Read online

  “Oh my God. I can’t even imagine!” Tasha said, laughing.

  “Well, it is sort of hard to imagine until you’ve seen it in person.” David agreed.

  “Ok. Change of subject. Clutch tells me you’re unattached. Have you ever been married?” Tasha asked. She had decided that David was having a good time with her and she knew she was having a good time with him. Why not be upfront and direct?

  “No. Never met the right one. I have strange work hours and, truth be told, I’ve just never had enough time to put into a relationship.”

  “I guess that’s my story too, more or less. Most of my relationships haven’t been serious.” She answered quickly, wincing inside when the words came out of her mouth. It had dawned on her that he might consider her easy. Too late now and, as her mama used to say, the truth will stand when the world’s on fire.

  To her surprise, David Campbell laughed. “Yeah, that’s me.” He said, glancing at his watch. “Look, I really hate to go. I’m having a lot of fun here but duty calls.”

  “Oh, sure. Hey, don’t let me keep you.”

  “I really would like to stay, though.” He said, smiling as he stood up.

  “Well, how about giving me a call when you have some time again.” Tasha answered, feeling bolder by the moment.

  “I’d love that.” He reached out to her as she rose from the table and took her in his arms. She felt his rock hard biceps squeeze her at the waist. Tasha could feel herself overheating and sent up a silent prayer to the gods that her face wasn’t the color of a summertime tomato.

  David pulled back, looking her directly in the eyes. His hands were resting on her hips. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “Oh, absolutely.”

  God, I need a drink Tasha thought as she sat behind the steering wheel, gripping it with everything she had. It was 11:45. Almost noon. She had played and replayed her meeting with David over in her head focusing heavily on their embrace. The way he touched her gave her gooseflesh. Tasha noticed her breathing was a little rapid, even now, thinking about it. Strong emotion, particularly the sexual kind, made her want the bottle. She was somewhat conscious of the fact but unwilling, or unable, to fight the beast that would insist on taking more and more. Instead, she pushed the horrid truth of it to the back of her mind and told herself that she would think about that some other day. Some day she would be better equipped to deal with it but not right now. Right now, she wanted a motherfucking drink. Luckily, she was en route to Tino’s Wine and Spirits and only five minutes from her destination.

  At 12:30, she pulled out of the parking lot with her newest haul. She could hear the bottles of cheap red wine clink together as she drove home. She smiled as she drove because she was proud of herself. She hadn’t bought any of the hard stuff. Yep. That just might be the ticket. Stick to wine. After all, didn’t the French drink it all the time? Come to think of it, didn’t the Europeans all drink like sailors? Hell, they were healthy. The key to anything was moderation. She just needed a couple of drinks to take the edge off. After all, hadn’t today been red letter? Tasha remembered the old McDonald’s jingle: You deserve a break today. Well, didn’t she? Damn straight.

  She pulled into her space at the apartment complex several minutes later and got out of the car. Opening the back door of her sedan, she grabbed the bag which held the bottles of wine from the back seat. She walked carefully to her door making sure not to drop them. Turning the key in the lock of her front door, she kicked the door open with her left foot since her hands were full. Once she had the bottles safely on the granite countertop in her kitchen, she took a deep breath and exhaled. Whew. It was cold outside but a trickle of sweat dripped from her temple and landed on her dark blouse. She moved to the foyer, closing her front door. She was home. Tasha glanced into her kitchen and, once again, looked at the bottles of wine. A grin played at the corner of her lips. There’s no time like the present, is there Mr. Pinot Noir? Walking back into the kitchen she made a bee line for the drawer which held her corkscrew.

  CHAPTER 37

  Fuck.

  Somewhere close to her, the phone was ringing. Tasha Yoder barely opened her right eye and peeked at the clock sitting beside her bed. It read 10:42. The red digital colors seemed very severe and made her wince. The sky was black outside her window. It had to be night time but Tasha had no idea which night it was. Fumbling for the receiver, she brought the phone up to her ear. There was silence for a full 15 seconds while she tried to get her tongue to work. It seemed to be stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  “Yeah.” She finally whispered.

  “Hey, why the hell didn’t you call me?” Clutch started in a somewhat accusatory manner.

  “When?”

  “This evening! I thought you were going to call and tell me how the date went. Why didn’t you?”

  “Dunno. I guess I just got caught up and decided to turn in early.” She said reaching for a glass of water on her bedside table. Her tongue was as rough as a cat’s and her head was hurting. She took three long swallows and wiped her mouth on the bed sheet. Out of habit, she reached over to make sure there was no one lying beside her.

  “Well…?”

  “Well, there’s not that much to say. I think he likes me and I like him. Maybe it’ll go somewhere.”

  “Did you all talk about the case?”

  “Maybe a little.” She said sitting up on the side of her bed. God, her head was throbbing. “Hey, can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really beat.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” There was silence on the open phone line.

  “What is it?” Tasha asked, trying hard not to lose her temper.

  “Well, it’s about Carol Shipley. She seems to be improving a little. Limmel was over there today when I showed up. Her parents are over the fucking moon.”

  “That’s great.” Tasha said, trying hard to camouflage a yawn. “Look, we’ll talk later. OK?”

  “Sure. Call tomorrow and we’ll catch up.”

  “Bye.”

  Tasha hung up the phone and lay back down in bed. Unfortunately, she was wide awake now. That made her head hurt even worse. She reached up and massaged both her temples. Damn Clutch. Why the fuck was he calling her so late? She reasoned that he was just excited about Carol. Of course, he was also nosy about her ‘date’. Her head was buzzing and the pain shot through it like a lightning bolt. She felt like her brain was just a mass of exposed nerves bathed in ice cold water. She needed to make a memo that red wine had that effect on her. She tried to recall how she ended up in bed. The last thing she could remember was looking at the clock at 3PM. Bed probably came much later than that. Still, though, she could remember that at three, something had happened. She had been working on her second bottle of Pinot and a feeling had consumed her. A dark, scary feeling. Tasha couldn’t quite put her finger on it but she knew the feeling was real. She thought back to her conversation with David Campbell. He had told her that he thought other hands were at play. Maybe there were two killers. Maybe they weren’t out of the woods after all. Was that why she had a sense of doom and gloom? She wasn’t quite sure. Tasha felt her eyelids growing heavy. She knew that it was too much to worry about now. She turned over and within minutes, she was snoring.

  CHAPTER 38

  It was black as night. Carol Shipley had no idea that she was staring at the inside of her eyelids, but if she did, she probably wouldn’t have minded. She had a chorus in her head. It was the chorus of “Amazing Grace” and she could see Tilly Bass leading the choir. Tilly was the choir director, many years ago, when Carol was a child. She was a short fat woman who had a double chin. Carol could see that double chin shaking from laughter as she and her mother joined in with the choir for the last verse. “Hallelujah!” her mother would say, as Tilly would point to them in the audience. Then her mother would “get happy”, raise her hand and shout her praise to the Father Almighty. Hallelujah, momma, Hallelujah.

  Ever since she could remember, Carol had known about God and the dev
il. Momma had made sure of that. Sunday morning and evening were dedicated to church. Wednesday evening there was prayer meeting. Carol’s momma would often say that no church was too devout or rigid. Saving ones’ soul from eternal fire and damnation was serious business. Snake handling was the only thing in Sarah Shipley’s estimation that crossed the line. God was The Great One of judgment. He was quick to judge the sins of man. Through His son, Jesus Christ, one could have everlasting life but one must always be vigilant to turn his back on the temptations of the devil. The world was a wicked place, full of evil men and women attempting to do wrong and bring others down with them. Sometimes, growing up, Carol would wonder if momma was right about that. Now, as she lay in the hospital bed covered in bandages with tubes connected to all parts of her body, Carol believed. She believed because she had seen true evil. Sometimes, she would still hear his voice whispering to her. She would still hear his wicked laughter. He would mock her and brag that she would never be able to get away from him. They’ll never catch me he would say. Never in a million years. She could feel his hot breath on her skin and she would want to scream but she was paralyzed. She couldn’t make a sound. Then, the laughter would grow louder and louder.

  Somewhere, Carol heard a noise that pulled her out of her horror. It was the sound of a door closing from across the room. She listened and heard footsteps approaching. “Carol, this is Dr. Connor.” A voice said from beside her bed. She felt him gently pat her on the shoulder. “Your vital signs look good. How about we try something different today?” he asked.

  “I’m going to take your hand and ask you a question. In response, I want you to squeeze my fingers. Once for ‘yes’, twice for ‘no’. Okay?”

  Carol felt Dr. Connor pick up her hand and hold it in his own. His skin was warm and soft. “Okay. Your mom and dad were talking with me about your grandmother. They said you loved to stay with her. Is that true? Remember… squeeze one for ‘yes’, two for ‘no.”

  Images flashed through Carol’s mind. She could see the white house with a tin roof. She could see her grandmother standing on the porch yelling to her. “Carrie! Carrie, come home!” She could hear the sound of thunder again as the clouds gathered and turned a grayish black.

  Carol felt strong emotion. Her memories of mamaw overwhelmed her making her want to cry. Instead, she put all of her concentration and strength into squeezing Dr. Connor’s hand. God, it was hard. Her hand didn’t seem to want to work.

  “Remember, one for ‘yes’, two for ‘no.” Dr. Connor reminded her in a gentle voice.

  A full minute passed as the doctor held her hand. She wanted to scream out. She wanted to give him some sign that she was right there, hearing every word he said. Finally, with all the strength she could muster, she squeezed. Carol couldn’t squeeze hard but it was enough for Dr. Connor.

  “Good! That’s great Carol!” he chuckled. “You did love to stay with your grandmother, didn’t you sweetie?”

  Carol squeezed her doctor’s fingers once again. Dr. Connor shouted out in jubilation. “Oh this is great news, Carol! I have to go get your parents. They’ll be so proud of you! I’ll be right back!”

  Carol listened as Dr. Connor walked across the floor to the other end of the room and opened the door shutting it behind him in a whisper.

  CHAPTER 39

  It was a cold, wet day in the middle of winter. January 20 to be exact. A note had arrived at police headquarters with the name ‘Martin Vicelli’ scrawled in red marker on the envelope. Martin opened the sheet of notebook paper and studied it for almost five minutes. As he read, a trickle of sweat dripped down his right temple. His upper lip was beaded too. Finally, he rose from his desk and marched the note down the hall to the office of Dan Mclutcheon.

  “Here, boss. I think you need to look at this.” Martin said grimly.

  Clutch took the note and began to read:

  YOU DIRTY FUCKING PIG!!! YOU NEED TO LEARN WHAT HAPPENS TO PIGS WHO SQUEAL.

  I WILL TEACH YOU, NAPOLEON, THAT YOU WILL NOT RISE UP AGAINST ME! DIE ALL PIGS!

  SHARE THIS WITH YOUR BOSS AND THE BITCH. BELIEVE ME. YOU WILL ALL SUFFER FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!

  At the bottom of the note, written in what looked like blood, was the word ‘pig’ in all capital letters.

  Clutch placed the note on his desk and wiped a hand across his face. “That’ll be all, Martin.” He finally said, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand.

  “But boss… what are we gonna do?”

  “I don’t know yet but, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “But don’t you think I have a right to know?”

  Daniel Mclutcheon looked at Vicelli with rage in his eyes. His expression was dark and ominous. “That’ll be all, Martin.” He repeated sternly.

  He watched as Vicelli turned on his heel and left the office. Glancing back at the note, Clutch figured there was only one thing to do. He picked up his desk phone and began dialing the numbers.

  Approximately one hour later, there was a light tap on Clutch’s office door. “Come in.” Clutch called.

  Tasha Yoder opened the door and, as she crossed the threshold, she saw that Clutch had company. A man, perhaps a little older than Clutch, was sitting in a chair across from him. The man turned and immediately Tasha recognized him. She smiled genially and offered her hand to Ryan Skopic. Judging by the look on his face, Skopic was in no mood for pleasantries.

  “Take a seat, Tasha.” Skopic said, directing her to sit in the chair he had vacated. Tasha did as she was told. Skopic, who remained standing, stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and began jingling the coins that were inside. Tasha had no clue that Ryan Skopic always did this when he was extremely nervous or upset. She turned her attention to Clutch.

  “I came as soon as I could. You said this was very important. What’s going on, Clutch?”

  “Read this and tell me what you think.” Clutch said as he handed her the envelope with the note inside.

  Tasha scanned the envelope, noting the name ‘Martin Vicelli’ scrawled in red marker. Then she opened it and began looking at the note. As she glanced down the page, her brow began to crease. Finally, after several minutes, she handed the note back to Clutch.

  “What do you make of it?”

  Tasha leaned back in her chair and glanced up at the ceiling. She could feel both men’s eyes on her as she tried to gather her thoughts.

  “Ok. Obviously, you’re dealing with a very angry and desperate individual. I mean, the letters were all capitalized. He feels persecuted by law enforcement. Possibly because of his belief system. He has an extreme sense of being wronged and of being treated unfairly. Also, he obviously hates you and Vicelli.” She said, looking straight at Clutch. “As for the ‘bitch’ he refers to, I take it that he doesn’t have a very high opinion of me either.” Tasha finished. A weak smile played across her lips.

  “Well, why is he talking about Napoleon Bonaparte?” Skopic asked, breaking the silence.

  “He’s not, chief.” Tasha answered. “He’s talking about Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’. Among other things, the book was about a pig leading the other animals to rise up against their masters. The pig became a tyrant. Not a very sympathetic literary character.” She said, chuckling.

  “What about the part where he says that we will all suffer?” Clutch asked her.

  “Look. Whatever his gripe, imagined or real, he feels that he has been treated very roughly by law enforcement. He seems to be ready to right the wrongs that he feels were done to him.” She said, looking back and forth at both men.

  “Well…here’s an even more serious question.” Skopic began. “Do you think this is tied in to DWK?”

  Tasha folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not one hundred percent sure at this point. I will say this. The tone is different. In DWK’s letters, the tone was more taunting. It was more of ‘I know something and you don’t’. It was a display of how smart the bastard thought he was. In this recent letter, however, you feel his
deep seated anger. The rage is boiling up and it’s about to spill over.”

  “Well, the major thing that gives me pause is the fact that the bastard sent the note to Vicelli. He knows the Vicelli connection.” Clutch observed. “There aren’t very many people who know that.”

  “Yeah, but Vicelli does squeal like a pig!” Tasha said, laughing. “Hell, half of Chattanooga probably knows at this point where he stands in the department. He can’t keep his pie hole shut.”

  “Still… I would feel better if we put Jerry Tallent back on you for awhile.” Clutch responded.

  “Hey, I don’t need a babysitter. We’ve already been down that road and, come to find out, you needed him more than I did.” Tasha said to Clutch.

  “Just for a little while.” He pleaded.

  “No, Clutch! I am absolutely fine on my own with my .38. I don’t need that rookie breathing down my neck.”

  Ryan Skopic was in no mood for a battle of wills. “Well, what about the word ‘pig’ written in what looks like blood?” he asked.

  Tasha turned her attention back to the chief. “The word pig, written in blood, has a very obvious connotation. Remember Sharon Tate?”

  She watched as the chief of police narrowed his eyes. A crease formed in his brow. “That name sounds very familiar.” He finally said.

  “Yes. It sounds familiar because Sharon Tate was once a sometime actress who was carrying Roman Polanski’s baby. One night a very pregnant Sharon was slaughtered at a home in Bel Air by the Manson family. Her blood was used to scrawl the word ‘pig’ on the wall.”

  “Jesus. I remember that now. It was all over the news. You were probably too young to remember it.” Skopic said, smiling at her.

  “I’ve seen the pictures. I’ve watched the documentaries and we touched on it in training at Quantico.”

  “Well, I’m gonna make sure that this note is sent to the crime lab. There, they can test the blood. Maybe we’ll get lucky. The drawback is that it’s gonna take a while to process. Meantime, we all need to be on the lookout.” Skopic glanced at his watch. “Sorry but I need to break up the party. I have a meeting with the mayor scheduled in 20 minutes.” He said, taking the note from Clutch.