The Unseen Killer, page 2
"I can look again, but…" He glanced down at the woman.
Jasper shook his head slightly. "What did the note say?"
"It's either poetry, or it's some sort of message." He looked over at Tom. "I wrote it down in my notes before I bagged it. You'll have a copy before we close down the scene."
Tom nodded once. "Thanks."
"What's she wearing?" Jasper asked after a few moments.
"Jeans, looks pretty new, very in style. Nikes, the girl kind with that one strap across the top, it'd look like a dress shoe if it didn't have the swish and a cross-trainer bottom. Hooded sweatshirt with a logo on the left, the sweatshirt's at least two sizes too big for her. Underneath is a sweater."
"It's not cold enough to layer a sweater and sweatshirt." Tom thought out loud.
Seth nodded. "Out of place."
"What's the logo?"
"Parshim Training Center."
Jasper turned towards Seth. "Are you sure?"
"I've been reading on my own for a while." Seth countered with a grim smile.
Tom noticed Jasper's attention. "Is that important?"
"It's a center that pairs service dogs with owners." Before it could be asked, he added, "It's where I went through to get Ace last year."
"That's interesting," Tom muttered.
Jasper sighed. "Yes, it is. Seth, would you say re-dress?"
"Can't say for sure right now, at least the sweatshirt." The well-maintained purr of the corner's van drew closer. "Looks like her ride's here."
Jasper took a step back so the victim could be loaded into the van. He switched off the recorder and just listened to the conversations around him. He stayed still, listening and thinking. He didn't move or speak until after the back doors of the van had been slammed shut and the van started to pull away.
"What are you thinking?" Tom asked after a moment.
"The sweatshirt wasn't hers." Jasper rarely stated the obvious.
"That's all?"
Jasper took a slow breath. "The killer is very, very good at what he does. It is extremely difficult to kill someone with strangulation or blunt force trauma without leaving obvious evidence behind. This guy is showing off, showing us how smart he is."
"That's what I was afraid of." Tom put his pen in his mouth, not unlike a cigarette. He had quit five years ago, but everyone thought twice before asking him to borrow a pen. "I'll get you the copies of what we have so far if you'll accompany me back to the station."
Jasper nodded, his brain still turning over what he had learned already.
"You ready to roll?"
"...yeah." Jasper placed his hand on Tom's shoulder.
The ride back to the station was silent, both men going over the few pieces of evidence that had been obtained. It wasn't adding up, something that neither man was very comfortable with. The details of the death were too common to pin down any suspects. The lack of fingerprints or hair made getting identification on the guy that much harder to find.
Jasper was still working on the detail of the sweatshirt. There were five places that paired service dogs with owners in the city, a one in five chance of happening to pick the one that Jasper had gone to. Not to mention all the other possibilities of sweatshirts that she could have been in. Something wasn't sitting right with him, and that made him edgy, nervous. He wanted to brush it off as a coincidence, but he wouldn't be a good detective if he ignored everything that seemed like a coincidence.
They pulled into the station parking lot. Jasper unfolded his cane, even though he knew the way to Tom's office almost as well as he knew the layout of his own apartment. Unlike his apartment, the police station had a tendency to move furniture or boxes or chairs or anything else that Jasper could trip over. So when he came across two stacks of boxes and a desk chair, his point was proven yet again.
Once in the office, Tom placed a stack of pages typed in braille on the edge of the desk and sat down. "Prelim notes on the desk in front of you."
Jasper took the pages and flipped through them, his fingers skimming across so fast that Tom wondered how he could determine the difference between one dot and the next.
"I'll get the rest for you by tomorrow morning. I'll drop them by."
He nodded. "Thanks." He smirked. "Hey, Tom."
"Yeah?"
"Maybe you want to start warning new officers that I can't see."
Tom laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Does it bother you?"
"Hell, no." He smiled. "I'm just thinking of those poor rookies and the guys from the other district."
"I'll stop when it bothers you."
Jasper turned back to his notes. "You're a little evil."
"Mischievous, that's the politically correct term we're using now." His phone rang. "Berkhard. Yes... yes. Shit."
Jasper looked up, not because he needed to, but because it was a visual social cue he was taught along with reading braille and walking down the street without being a hazard or appearing to have a death wish.
"Ten minutes." He slammed the phone down. "Husband of the vic showed up."
"That's usually not a bad thing."
"Said he called the police last night when she didn't come home, no report was filed because she left after an argument. He took a swing at the dispatch officer when it was suggested that he calm down."
"Want me to go? He's not going to take a swing at a blind guy." He didn't need eyes to know that Tom cracked a smile.
He sighed. "This is why I keep you around, to remind me that shit like this is going to be entertaining after retirement." He left the office.
Jasper waited thirty seconds before he got up and followed behind. He wouldn't be a damn good detective if he didn't do some investigating. Besides, Tom or any of the officers, for that matter, couldn't tell the slight change in pitch that a voice has when the yelling isn't from anger. Jasper could tell when the yelling was from grief.
It didn't take him long to find the conversation between Tom and the distraught husband; he could hear the yelling two halls down. It also didn't take him long to figure out that the yelling wasn't from anger.
The husband's voice broke just enough that Jasper wondered if anyone else caught it. He walked into the room to give Tom a hand.
"Did she suffer at all?" He had stopped yelling.
Tom hesitated, so Jasper stepped in. "No, sir."
The man probably played football in college, but that was more than a handful of years ago, and he was still solid enough that it wasn't too hard to imagine. "Excuse me?"
Tom shot a glare at Jasper and realized that it was more for the distraught husband's sake and his own frustration.
Jasper stepped forward, badge already in hand. "Detective Sheridan, don't let the cane fool you. I know what I'm doing."
The husband seemed to shrink some. "You're sure?"
"Spoke with the coroner this morning at the scene. She didn't feel a thing."
Tom snapped an officer over. "I'm going to have you go with Officer Robertson just to get a quick statement."
"I'd like to see my wife." He stated, still trying to be that football player.
"Right after the statement." Tom sighed as the husband was led away. "You lied."
Jasper felt Tom's hand on his shoulder. "Yes, I did."
They walked back towards Tom's office. "Thanks."
"Told you he wouldn't punch a blind guy."
"He was about to, till you flashed your badge." Tom eased into his chair. "It's going to be a long week, isn't it?"
Jasper sighed and picked up the pages again. "I keep telling you, Tom. I'm blind, not psychic. I can't begin to tell you what sort of week you'll have."
"Well, either way, I'm bringing you with me."
"Think you could turn on a light? It's a little dark in here for me to read." He joked.
Tom was about to say something back but decided against it and instead worked on getting the files organized for the case. Jasper knew that silence well and smiled as his fingers slid over the braille embossed pages. He had a photographic memory, not so much in the sense that if he saw something he'd remember every detail, but more in the fact that he could read or hear something and remember it then. It was his saving grace for being a detective. Most of his notes and tape recordings were for reference. It was documentation rather than word-for-word accounts. He worked through lunch, but it wasn't uncommon for him to forget lunch. He could remember the exact confession, but he couldn't remember mealtimes.
The ringing of his cell alerted him that time had passed, four hours exactly. Tom looked up as though from a trance; he and Jasper had surprisingly similar work habits.
"Hello?" Jasper stood and stepped out into the hall and tripped slightly over a box that wasn't there before.
"Where are you going tonight?" The female voice broke through his work coma.
"Shit. Am I late?"
"Not yet. You have two hours." And the call ended.
Jasper smiled as he stepped back into the office. "That was Marlow. She's making me call it a day."
Tom glanced over at his commemorative clock, fifteen years on the force, and saw that he was going to be late for dinner if he didn't. "Yeah, I'll be sleeping on the couch if I'm late for dinner again." He stood and gathered together files to take home.
"Need me to come in tomorrow?" Jasper carefully placed papers in his bag.
"Don't think so. You'll get a call if I do." He glanced over the desk, checking for last-minute things. "Need a ride?"
"Nah, I was going to drive." He deadpanned.
Jasper and Tom weaved through the busy office. New cases without much evidence always made the room busier and hours longer. Jasper utilized Tom's shoulder to be led to the car. Parking garages were like Jasper's worst enemy. When the cars aren't running, everything ends up being much closer to the same. The ride home was silent; their thoughts were still on the case. If Jasper was right about the killer being smart, and he usually was right, then nothing would go smoothly.
"Talk to you tomorrow." Tom stopped in front of the apartment building.
Jasper pushed open his door and leaned on the roof. "Yeah. Let me know if you find anything else."
"You'll be the first to know."
"Good luck with dinner." He smirked.
"I'll need it."
Jasper closed the door and heard the car pull away. He put the sound of traffic at his back and climbed the front steps to his apartment. He hardly noticed the elevator and the hallway as his feet followed a familiar path, and his thoughts worked over the case. Once inside, Ace ran to greet him. There was nothing quite like coming home to the happy greeting of a dog.
Jasper placed his bag on a corner of the counter reserved for it. "Ace, leash."
While Ace got the harness, Jasper grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter. He bit down on the apple and held it between his teeth as he fastened Ace's harness. The pair went out and down and emerged on the street. They walked the short loop at the park and returned home.
Jasper hung up Ace's leash and went to the bedroom. He tugged off his sweater, folded it, and replaced it on the shelf. He splashed on some cologne, ran a comb through his hair, and traded his boots for dress shoes.
CHAPTER TWO
He had just stepped into the kitchen when his cell rang. He fished it from his pocket, dropped it, and then picked it up.
He answered a little flustered. "Hello?"
"Are you ready?"
He could hear the smile in Marlow's voice and smiled in return. "Yes, just grabbing something to eat."
"I brought you a sandwich, I'm in the hallway, about to knock." She knocked on the door.
"I got to go, someone's at the door." He ended the call on her laughter.
Jasper opened the door, with Ace right behind him. Sometimes Ace thought he had to be a guard dog as well.
Marlow stood in a flattering dark red dress that looked amazing with her dark hair. "Hey, Ace."
She stepped inside, with one hand on Jasper's arm so he knew where she was going. She closed the door and placed the paper bag on the counter.
"Sure, you say hi to him first." Jasper teased.
"Well, you ended our conversation to answer the door." She took the sandwiches from the bag.
"Tomato basil panini from Dominique's?" He took down a couple of plates from the cupboard.
"Are you guessing?"
"No."
She rested her hand on his shoulder and kissed him. "Of course not. Table or counter?"
"How much time do we have?" He took iced tea from the refrigerator and poured two glasses.
"About a half hour." She put the sandwiches on the plates.
"Counter."
They ate standing at the counter, using folded paper towels as napkins. It worked out that Marlow was left-handed and Jasper right-handed, so they could eat with her hand on top of his. They knew it was cheesy, but that's why they liked it. Ace sat outside of the kitchen, trained not to beg but also hopeful for a dinner invitation. Jasper finished all but the last bite of his sandwich and gave it to Ace.
"Did you just feed him from the table?" Marlow teased.
"No, we didn't eat at the table." Jasper smirked as he filled Ace's bowl and checked his water.
Marlow scoffed as she cleaned up the plates and glasses. Jasper straightened and turned to face her. She smiled and knew he couldn't see it, but also knew that he probably knew she was.
"I bet you look amazing." He said.
She swallowed. He always knew the thing to say that would completely blindside her, that's what she loved... well, among countless other things. "Yeah, I look pretty damn good."
He laughed and reached for her hands. She took his and felt his fingers tighten around her own.
"We're going to be late if we don't leave soon," she said quietly.
He stuck his bottom lip out a little in a fake pout, though Marlow had a suspicion that it wasn't entirely pretend. "I don't know."
"You agreed. I explained exactly what we were doing, and you agreed." She wasn't angry. He was only hesitant when he didn't feel in control.
"I did, and I refuse to go against my word to you, but…" He took a breath.
She stepped close to him and slid her hands around his waist. "Everything will be just fine. Trust me?"
He paused. "Yes. Should we go?" He smiled.
"Do you want to drive, or should I?"
His smile grew wider, less forced. "I think you should. I might need a drink after, and my car's in the shop."
"You're a dork."
He slipped his hand in hers and grabbed his cane. "Ace, stay."
Marlow and Jasper left the apartment, and he locked the door behind them. He was quiet as they rode the elevator down, as they climbed into her car and pulled out of the parking lot.
He glanced over. "I've been practicing," he muttered with a shy smile.
She looked over in surprise. "And you weren't going to tell me."
"Well, I didn't want to tell you and then suck, but I've told you..."
"Then you must be confident in your skills." She glanced over to read his expression.
He licked his lips and caught his bottom lip between his teeth like he does when he's nervous. She reached over and took his hand, and they stayed like that the entire way until they parked at Madame Bloom's Ballroom Dance. Without missing a beat, Jasper climbed out of the car, walked around to the driver's side, and opened Marlow's door.
"May I escort you in?"
She smiled. "You lead, I'll steer."
Once inside, they lined up with the other couples. Jasper had placed his cane under Marlow's purse and hoped that he'd be able to spare them from looking like seventh graders at their first official dance.
"Positions," Madame Bloom stated with more authority than her five-foot frame should have given her.
Jasper took a breath and put one hand on Marlow's waist and took her hand with the other. She put her arm around his shoulders.
"You lead, I'll steer," she whispered in his ear and was rewarded with a relieved smile.
The music started, and after a few faltering, awkward steps, they fell into a rhythm. Jasper had no idea how he looked, other than Marlow's continued whispers in his ear. They danced as one, a single entity, each responsible for half of the dance. Marlow kept them from colliding with people or walls, and Jasper guided her in the steps, turns, and dips. By the end of the hour and a half, he had relaxed and even had fun.
They walked from the building back to the car, his hand around her waist.
"That wasn't so bad," she glanced up at him.
He smiled. "No, not a complete disaster."
"You were the handsomest man in the room, and the best dancer."
He shook his head. "Lying will only get you so far."
"You have to trust me. Tell me someone who was dancing better than you?"
"Technicality," he played along. "Though I did feel bad for how often Dave was reprimanded."
"Poor Dave," she bit back a smile, trying to sound stoic. "He had no rhythm."
"Well, that I have plenty of." As proof, Jasper twirled her under his arm.
"Why, Mr. Astaire, you're so suave."
He opened the door for her. "Your car, Mrs. Rogers."
Jasper never closed the car door, mostly because he could never tell when she was fully in the car or not, and shutting the door on his girlfriend usually wasn't the best idea. He climbed in the passenger side and leaned back.
"The night is young." She started the car.
"I need that drink."
She laughed. He loved making her laugh. "Any place in particular?"
"A great little hole in the wall that only a few people know about."
"What's it called?" She pulled out of the parking lot.
He smiled. "Jasper's." He correctly interpreted her silence as confusion. "Trust me."
They drove the dark streets back to the apartment. Once Jasper was in the parking lot behind the building, he was on familiar territory, and that always made him more confident. He hid unease almost flawlessly, but Marlow could always tell. They could read the subtleties in each other, things that didn't need words, and that was something that neither one had anywhere else.
