A Kettle of Hawks (The Birdwatcher Series Book 3) Page 7

  “Where in the apartments are the bodies being found?” he asked.

  “Bath tubs, all of them,” she replied, “Why?”

  “How long has the earliest victim been dead?”

  “Not certain, but it looks like about four days, maybe five,” Sarah said and he could sense her annoyance at his questions. “What is this about Tyler, what do you know?” She wasn’t shouting but he knew that was only because she was somewhere she couldn't shout.

  “I think I’ve found victim number one,” he said.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “A building site south of the city. I’ll send you the address.”

  “I’ll get a forensics team over there, I still have a few more crime scenes to get to, but I’ll be along out there at some point today too,” Sarah said. “Do I have to ask where you got the information?”

  “No, you know, I was calling you on my way over here.”

  “What are you going to tell the police when they ask?”

  “Anonymous tip, they can see the phone number on my phone but they won’t be able to trace it to Spalding, he will have made sure of that.” Sarah didn’t reply right away but Tyler waited.

  “I guess this is the start of his next game,” she said, no zeal in her tone at all.

  “I guess so,” Tyler replied, though he knew the game was up and running before now. He’d known for sure since he stepped out into the clearing in the forest where his past finally caught up with him.

  Chapter 16

  The news story gripped the city, taking over the news cycle. Every TV screen cried out about the murders, every online paper and blog had something to say. People starting warning friends on Facebook or Twitter about a strange man in a white van that had apparently been seen near all of the murder scenes. This was a perennial, though if there was ever anything to happen when a white van wasn’t nearby no one ever seemed to know it. People gathered in groups in the affected area like they would ward off the killer, safety in numbers and all that.

  Tyler had been taken away for questioning long before Sarah had been able to put in an appearance at the murder scene he’d found at the construction site. Delgado and she looked over this last scene (last for them, but it looked to be the first murder in the killer’s sequence) and saw what they’d seen all day. Dead men, gaping wounds and bath tubs. No clues at any of the scenes unless forensic tests later yielded some results.

  “I’ve never been involved with any more than two killings by the same person. And most of those were carried out at the same time as each other,” Delgado said, away from reporter’s ears. He shook his head in wonder.

  “It’s not something you get used to,” Sarah replied. This was true, each time something like this happened it was as sickening as it had been the first time you saw it. You learned to control your external reactions but inside it was stomach knotting and nauseating. The things people could do to another human never ceased to astound her in the worst possible way.

  The five victims had little in common and were unknown to one another. Each lived alone and hadn’t been missed significantly in the days they were absent.

  “It looks like apart from the security guard, the jobs these men worked might have been how they were targeted,” Delgado mused aloud. Sarah had the same thought.

  “Yes, but that leads us to why this one is different,” Sarah said. She walked to the lead police officer and Delgado followed, taking one more look behind at the scene as he walked away.

  “Detective Duggan?” Sarah said and the man looked up from his notebook where he’d been writing something down.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked pleasantly.

  “Do you know who should have been working with the deceased here?”

  “We’ve looked over the guard hut, there’s a sign in sheet that has a man called Farley Tusk marked in and out for the night shift the last few days,” Hastings said.

  “Anyone else’s name on that sheet?” Delgado asked.

  “Only the dead guy’s name, Graham Ledener.”

  “Has someone been signing him in and out?” Sarah asked. Duggan shook his head.

  “No, he signed in six days ago and that’s it.”

  “Have you managed to locate Farley Tusk yet?”

  “Men on the way to his house now, but if he had anything to do with this I doubt we’ll find him there.”

  “Put out an APB,” Sarah said. Duggan looked at her a moment and she knew what he was thinking, 'Why would I do that until we find he’s not at home', but he relented. Duggan picked up his radio and called it in to headquarters. Sarah thanked him and she and Delgado left the scene. It had been a very long day indeed.

  When they were back in the car- Delgado taking the wheel this time- he asked,

  “Do you think it’s possible this Tusk guy killed this man here, worked his shift and left to kill another man each time before coming back to work?” He didn’t sound like he believed it himself.

  “I don’t know,” Sarah said. “I’ve seen a lot of strange things and something like that wouldn’t make the top five.” She ran her tongue over her lips. She felt grimy from the day and her mouth felt thick with dust from the construction site. Her hot bath beckoned to her but she knew that wasn’t on the cards tonight. She would try grab a quick shower at the Academy or one of the police stations when she could. She had spare clothes with her for just these kinds of occasions.

  “Tyler Ford was taken away by the police for questioning,” Delgado said after a short silence.

  “Oh yeah?” Sarah said, surprised to hear him mentioned.

  “I thought you’d want to know that,” Delgado said, “He’s been involved in your last few cases, hasn’t he?” Sarah didn’t hear any mocking or insinuating tone in his voice but she didn't know this man yet, or what he thought about anything.

  “Only the last one,” she said, trying to recall how much of the previous ‘John the Baptist' case was public knowledge. “He saved my life.” There was quiet in the car for a long time then before Delgado went on.

  “It must be very hard for you having to get a new partner after what you went through,” he said. Sarah didn’t answer, she could feel his eyes glance towards her a moment before looking back to the road. “I guess it might be about twenty years before you're ready to trust me?” This last was said with a light laugh but Sarah was sure they both probably felt there was some truth to it.

  “I don’t know what happened to turn Malick the way he went, but I know he wasn’t always that way. Dwight Spalding got to him somehow and when that happens it doesn’t seem people have any choice left anymore.” She regretted saying this right away. They had probably warned him about her obsession with Spalding and asked him to let them know if she brought him up. Who were ‘they’ in this scenario? You’re being paranoid, she told herself.

  “I’ve been reading up on Spalding,” Delgado said conversationally. “I’ve heard rumours too of an investigation into him that spans the whole country.”

  “I’ve heard that too,” Sarah replied, “But anytime I’ve asked anyone I get stonewalled.”

  “It’s as personal as it gets for you,” Delgado said, “Even if there was a case like that, I can’t see they’d ever let you on it. Or anyone else who has lost someone close to them at Spalding's hand.”

  Sarah knew that song already, but she also knew there was definitely a full operation in progress against Spalding. She just had to hope they were making some headway and that at some point he would be arrested. Deep in her heart however, she didn’t think this was ever going to happen. If he was going to be brought down it was going to be through one of his games, like the one he was playing with her. He had his ass covered everywhere, must have been planning this whole thing for all those years he was dormant. He knew how the police and FBI were looking for him, how they could piece things together and he was way ahead of that. She was going to bring him in, alone if it came to it, even if it meant the end of her career in
the FBI.

  After showering at the Academy, Sarah requested the interview tape or transcript from Baltimore PD of their talk with Tyler Ford earlier. They couldn’t, or wouldn’t send the video but there was a rough transcript and she glanced through it.

  Tyler had received an anonymous call with coordinates in it. He said he didn’t know who called him. He had supplied the police with his phone and the number that was used to tell him this information. They hadn’t been able to trace it. Tyler told them about finding the place deserted and finding the body from the smell and how he called the police there. He made no mention of calling Sarah on his other phone.

  They had asked him his whereabouts at the approximate times of the other murders in Baltimore. He said he didn't know anything about them but was able to tell them where he was each night this week. Sarah read through and was surprised to find she was jealous at the idea he might have been out on a date on one of those nights, but if he was he didn’t mention it. His alibis would be easily checked out and it looked like as far as the Baltimore PD were concerned he was in the clear. That was good, she didn’t need any more complications to everything else that was already going on.

  Chapter 17

  Late the next afternoon, Tyler called Sarah again on the secret phone she had. As ever she didn't answer and he drove on to the next neighborhood to ask questions about one of the murders there. She would be back to him when she could.

  Since his release last night, Tyler had been reading up all he could and talking to as many people as he could about the murders. It was through his network that he heard about the arrest of Farley Tusk. Tyler had seen that name in the sign in book at the construction site too and had wondered about it while he waited for the police to show up.

  The area he canvassed now was where victim number three, Victor Surov, had been murdered. As was his way, Tyler started his research in a mini mart down the street from the apartment block where Surov had lived. He went inside and nodded to the store keeper and then walked down one of the narrow aisles. He stopped and took up two rival brands of cake frosting and started looking from one to the other and pretending to read the back of each. While he did this, he let his ears wander around the store and he listened to the people in the other aisles and up at the deli counter talking. It never ceased to amaze Tyler how much information about an area could be discovered in this way.

  “I saw the man they’re talking about,” a shrill woman’s voice said. “I was going to call the police myself but he moved on.”

  “What man, what are you talking about?” an irascible man’s voice came back. Tyler couldn’t see them but he could tell this was an elderly couple who were by the deli counter. They probably bickered and disagreed about things all day long.

  “The man who killed that Russian guy,” the woman shot back.

  “Funny you didn’t mention it until after the police asked about it,” the man mumbled.

  “I did mention it; to you as it happens, but you were probably too busy looking at that Mrs Alma in her short dresses to hear me!” The man knew better than to answer back to that.

  A few other people in the shop had brief conversations on hearing what the woman had said, but it didn’t seem to Tyler anyone was relating anything first hand. Only the woman seemed to think she’d seen the man. Tyler moved around the aisle and bought a candy bar at the counter. He glanced around and saw the couple, the woman looked like the typical old woman you’d see twitching any set of curtains and he thought he’d talk to her. Going outside, he waited for them to come out.

  “Excuse me ma’am,” Tyler greeted them as they came out, “I couldn’t help but overhear you talking to your husband inside the store.” He flashed them a brilliant smile and they stopped and looked at him warily. The man had clutched his wife's arms and she had clutched harder to her handbag when he started talking to them. They were afraid, and after what had happened in their neighborhood, who could blame them. “I’m Tyler Ford, I write for ‘The Baltimore Echo,’” he said showing them his press ID. This didn’t seem to impress the man much, anyone could have a fake ID, but the wife was instantly a changed woman. If journalists were known for one thing it was listening, and something told Tyler this woman liked people to listen to her.

  “How can we help you?” she asked, a sickly sweet smile coming over her face as her husband rolled his eyes and looked down the street.

  “You think you saw the man who might have been responsible for the murder of Victor Surov?” Tyler asked.

  “Well, I didn’t see this man kill anyone, but he did look suspicious, he wasn’t from around here and it was the night they say that Russian man was killed.” She spoke as though she wanted everyone to hear, or like she thought perhaps she was being filmed for the TV news and had an audience.

  “You saw some man walking down the street,” her husband piped in grumpily as he took a step to leave. The woman's arm was firm though, she wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

  “Did you tell this to the police,” Tyler asked her before she had a chance to snap something at her husband.

  “Yes,” she nodded enthusiastically. “I gave them a description and everything, said he was acting funny, like he was trying to act normal but was so over the top about it he stood out a mile away.” She had just finished speaking when suddenly her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. For a second Tyler thought she was having a stroke or some other medical emergency, but then he followed her eye to see a man on the other side of the street walking along, looking very fidgety. The woman’s hand rose and she pointed, “That’s him!” she shouted in panic.

  At the sound of the woman’s voice the man stopped walking and looked over in fright. His face was pale and he met eyes with Tyler for a second before looking Tyler over and obviously deciding he was a cop. The man took off at a run and Tyler set off after him.

  “I’ll make sure you get mentioned in the story!” he called back to the couple outside the store.

  As he ran, Tyler didn’t feel he was running down a murderer, but this guy had something to hide and who knew what that might lead to. Perhaps he had drugs on him and could end up being a new informant for him; it wouldn’t be the first time he got one in this fashion.

  “Stop!” Tyler called after him, “I’m not a cop, I’m a reporter, I just want to talk to you!” He didn’t know why he was wasting his breath; this guy wasn’t going to listen and who would in his situation.

  The man was thin, lean looking, but he didn’t look to be much of an athlete. His run was gangly and uncoordinated and it was possible he could come crashing down at any moment over his own gait or boat feet. Tyler was gaining on him with each step.

  The man looked over his shoulder, his fearful eyes all Tyler saw before the head snapped back to the front and he made an ill-advised change of direction into an alleyway entrance. He’d left it too late to turn and he slammed hard into the wall on the opposite side of the lane and he stumbled, putting both hands to the ground to stop himself from falling. This was all Tyler needed and now he jumped down on the man's back and knocked him to the ground. The runner tumbled sideways and Tyler sprang again with the agility of a cat and pinned his hands to his chest and kneeled on them.

  “Take it easy,” Tyler said, “I told you I'm not a cop.”

  “Who are you then?” the man asked after gulping in a few deep breaths. He wasn’t struggling under Tyler’s weight.

  “I’m Tyler Ford, a journalist,” he replied. “Why did you run?”

  “Because you came after me.”

  “Bullshit, you ran when that old woman pointed you out. What are you hiding? She said she saw you the night a man was murdered down the street.” Tyler threw this barrage at him trying to unhinge the man and ruffle a slip of the tongue from him.

  The man was shaking his head now as though saying no to each question, but Tyler knew this wasn’t it. The man's face scrunched up and tears began to fall from his eyes as his face wrought an expression of abject sorrow.


  “I didn’t do it,” he wailed, “I was here but I didn’t do it!”

  “Who did do it?” Tyler asked, getting the sense this was an old scenario coming afresh.

  “I don’t know,” the man cried, “That’s the truth.” Tyler believed him and he lessened the pressure on the man's chest and then stood up, backing away a step but still keeping a keen eye on him.

  “What’s your name?” Tyler asked him.

  “Ray,” came the reply.

  “Ray what?”

  “Pallister.”

  “Ray Pallister,” Tyler repeated, it wasn’t a name he’d ever heard before. Ray sat up and rubbed his chest where Tyler’s knee had been. “Well, Ray, I think it’s time you and I paid a little visit to the police station.”

  “No, I'm telling you man, I didn’t do it!” Ray pleaded. He looked pitiful down there and even more so when he got to his knees as though to beg Tyler not to turn him in. It turned out he didn’t have to.

  “What’s going on back here?” a stern voice said, “I got a report of a fight going on back here.” Tyler turned to see a burly policeman walking down the alleyway towards them. He was alone and he had one hand on his still holstered gun.

  “Officer, I believe this man has information about the murder of Victor Surorv here last week,” Tyler said holding out his press ID for the officer to see. Ray didn’t object this time, he slumped down against the wall and just stared dejectedly at the ground.

  Chapter 18

  Five suspects in all. Five murders and five suspects. Sarah was glad to have suspects, but she didn’t like the uniformity of what was here before her. If there had been two suspects, or even ten she might have been happier but this was just too neat and she could feel it wasn’t going to work out easily.

  “Let’s split up for the interviews and compare notes after,” Sarah said. “We’ll get through them quicker that way.”