Cookie Dough Killer Read online

  “Oh, hey, yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve seen that dude. Poor guy. His mom is like some big shot over at the Club and he got booted from the fam, from what I’ve heard. His old lady is pretty hot – too bad they’re having issues.”

  “Have you seen him in the last couple of days?” Janssen tucked his phone back in his pocket, hoping that Andrew would step further outside of his personal space.

  “I don’t remember exactly which day it was, but yeah, I think so. He was with another guy who rented a boat,” Andrew frowned, thinking.

  “Was it on Monday? Can you check your ledger or something?” Janssen suggested.

  Andrew’s eyes brightened and he smacked himself in the head. “Well, duh! Yeah, man, no prob. Come over to the office, bro,” he beckoned, crossing the dock to the tiny rental shack. “You want a soda or something?” he offered, gesturing at a cooler under the cash register.

  “Yeah, it’s hot out here,” Janssen agreed.

  “Help yourself, man,” Andrew mumbled, thumbing through a well-worn appointment book.

  Janssen reached in and grabbed a can of cola that was nestled among piles of ice, and rubbed the condensation on the back of his neck. Cracking it open, he drained most of it in one gulp, the icy liquid bringing him back to life.

  “Dude’s name was Monty,” Andrew pointed at an entry in the book.

  “He went out there with somebody named Monty? That’s all you got?” Janssen took another drink.

  “Yeah, he paid cash,” Andrew shrugged.

  “Is Monty one of his friends from the Club?”

  The sun-bleached young man shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t remember seeing him before.”

  “Did you see them when they came back?”

  “Nah, my shift was over. They left the keys in the drop box. Monty came and picked up his license the next morning,” his finger traced the notes in the log.

  “So, you don’t know if Monty came back with my buddy or if he came back alone?”

  Andrew stared at him, his mouth dropping open in realization.

  “Oh dude…you don’t think that, like, something bad happened, do you? Cuz then I’d have to fill out all these incident papers and stuff and report it to insurance, and it’s totally a big hassle,” he shook his head at the thought of it.

  “Nope, I’m sure it’s all good. I wish I could talk to Monty though. Did you see anything on his license, like an address or something where I could find him?”

  “Maybe, but I don’t remember. I’ve had a few brews since then, you know?” Andrew chuckled.

  “I hear ya,” Janssen nodded. “What about his car? Did you see what he drove?”

  “Nah, once they leave my dock, I don’t really pay attention, you know?” Andrew climbed back onto his lounger and stretched out. “This is kinda bumming me out. I hope you find your friend, dude,” he said, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.

  “Yeah, me too,” Janssen sighed and headed toward the parking lot.

  “You want a water for the road?” Andrew offered, eyes still closed.

  “Nope, I’m good. Thanks,” Janssen replied without turning around.

  When he got back to the car that Spencer had issued to him, he texted him an update.

  Have your hacker look for guys named Monty in the area. If we find him, we may find Henderson. I’m headed to City of Refuge Homeless Shelter, I’ll keep you posted.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  * * *

  “Isn’t this chick supposed to be rich?” Fiona wrinkled her nose at Allivia Dunham’s corpse on the table.

  “So?” Tim replied, his pre-autopsy examination just beginning.

  “So, aren’t you the least bit curious about why this rich chick is dressed in rags that smell like they’ve been used to clean someone’s dog kennel?” she crossed her arms.

  “It was done post-mortem,” the mortician muttered, as though that explained everything.

  “How do you know that?” Fiona frowned.

  Tim sighed and shook his head, disappointed in his protégé. “Look at the photos, for goodness sake, you’re the one who took them.”

  “Okay,” Fiona stared hard at the photos from the scene, which were spread out on a table across the room. “I’m clearly not seeing what you saw,” she pursed her lips, perplexed.

  “Look at her clothing,” he commanded, still examining the body. “Even though she was clearly posed, her clothing is all rucked up and twisted in a manner that could only have been from dressing her post-mortem, while she sat in the chair.”

  Fiona bent closer to the photos. “Oh,” she said in a small voice, high color rising in her cheeks at having missed something so obvious. She cleared her throat and assumed an air of nonchalance to cover her embarrassment. “Okay, fine. But why would someone do that?” she asked.

  “DNA,” Tim replied shortly.

  “DNA? What do you mean?”

  “Did you leave your brain at home this morning?” Tim inquired, looking at Allivia’s mouth with a magnifying glass.

  “Apparently so. Please, enlighten me,” Fiona mocked her boss.

  “If the attacker left DNA on the victim’s original outfit, it could tie them to the crime, so the smart thing to do would be to dress her in something that hadn’t been involved in the crime. The smell indicates that there may be…other DNA present on the clothing, which could potentially throw off investigators,” he explained impatiently.

  “Wow, that’s brilliant,” she breathed.

  “All in a day’s work,” Tim commented.

  “I didn’t mean your deduction was brilliant, I meant that the killer was,” Fiona rolled her eyes.

  “Maybe not,” Tim spoke in a hushed voice, reaching for a swab.

  “What? What did you find?” Fiona dashed to his side, recognizing his tone.

  “The killer may have left his own DNA behind,” Tim ran the swab across Allivia’s upper lip.

  “How?”

  “Whoever killed her may have kissed her. See the smudged lines of her lipstick? If we can recover some of the kisser’s saliva, we may be able to provide a lead on her killer.”

  “Whoa,” Fiona breathed, peering more closely.

  “This was definitely a personal crime,” Tim mused, moving the magnifying glass down to Allivia’s neck, where angry marks blossomed beneath an odd pink chiffon scarf.

  “Why, because she was kissed?”

  “No. We don’t actually know that whomever kissed her is actually the person who killed her. What makes this look very personal is the fact that whoever did this wanted to look into her eyes as she died. She wasn’t strangled from behind, as is the case in most strangulation. The killer looped the scarf around her neck and pulled the ends from the front.”

  “Which is why her hands were bound behind her,” Fiona’s eyes went wide. “Wow, can you imagine hating someone so much that you wanted to watch them die right in front of you?”

  “Almost,” Tim said lightly.

  Fiona stared at him for a few seconds before deciding that he was kidding.

  Tim pulled the open neck of the filthy button-down shirt Allivia was dressed in aside and a set of rings rolled out of the shirt’s pocket.

  “Well, what have we here?” he mused, using a pair of tweezers to pick up two rings which looked very much like an engagement ring and wedding band. He held them up to the light, turning them this way and that, then slipped them into a plastic evidence bag.

  “That’s one heck of a rock,” Fiona marveled at the size of the diamond on Allivia’s ring. “Wonder why it was in her pocket?”

  “Good question. There are tan lines on her fingers, wrist and ankle which look like she’s missing some jewelry. We may have a thief on our hands, who got caught up in something unexpected.”

  “But how does that work with the theory that it was personal?”

  “Perhaps the perpetrator staged the scene to appear as a robbery so that it wouldn’t look so personal,” Tim proposed.

/>   “So, the killer was smart enough to try to be careful, but dumb enough to leave clues behind,” Fiona summed up.

  “That’s usually the case. I’m going to take fibers from the clothing…it’s stained in a few places, so there may be useful DNA, then we’ll disrobe the deceased and perform the autopsy. Get your camera ready,” Tim ordered, ready to begin.

  “Wanna re-enact the death kiss?” she teased him, and was rewarded with a laser-beam glare from behind Tim’s thick glasses.

  **

  “Allivia Dunham was murdered?” Missy clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. “I can’t believe it,” she shook her head. “I was just at her house this morning.”

  “She was already dead by the time you arrived. Her housekeeper found the body later this morning,” Chas explained.

  “So that’s why Kendra couldn’t do daycare today,” she shuddered, patting down the hairs that rose on the back of her arms. “Her mother-in-law was murdered.”

  “I’m not certain that Kendra even knows about that yet.”

  “Then why would she say that she had family matters to attend to?” Missy wondered, dread growing in the pit of her stomach.

  “She showed up at the agency today because her husband has been missing for a couple of days.”

  “Her husband…?” Missy frowned, trying to process the information. “Oh my…do you think that Kendra did something to her husband and her mother-in-law?” her eyes grew round.

  “Anything is possible, but I’d be more inclined to think that Brantworth killed his mother and then disappeared. But look, this is an ongoing investigation, so I don’t want you to worry about this or say anything to anyone,” Chas cautioned his wife.

  “Oh, I know. Of course I won’t say anything. Does Echo know?”

  “Yes. She and Blaze Sutton showed up at Allivia’s after the body was found. I didn’t reveal who the victim was, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.”

  “Wait…is this what you were talking to Muffy about this morning?” Missy put two and two together.

  “Yes.”

  “I know she had nothing but contempt for Allivia, but she’s not a suspect, is she?” her voice was hushed.

  “A suspect…no. I will be checking into her story, however.”

  “Oh geez, Chas, is there no one who can be trusted anymore?” Missy dropped her head into her hands, overwhelmed.

  “Now you know that we have to follow up on every possible lead, and that most of them will end up being dead-ends. There’s no reason for you to start suspecting that there’s a boogeyman behind every corner,” he lifted her chin to look at him and kissed the tip of her nose. “You have nothing to fear, my love.”

  “It’s just all so ugly,” Missy’s lower lip trembled. “What on earth are we thinking, bringing another life into this crazy world?”

  “What we’re thinking is that our new baby will be the safest, sweetest, most wonderful little sibling for Kaylee, and that our family of four will be perfect. That’s what we’re thinking,” he admonished gently, kissing her again. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  * * *

  “If you want a bed, sir, I’m going to need you to fill out some forms,” a volunteer informed Janssen when he entered the City of Refuge shelter.

  Janssen stared at her for a moment before he realized that she thought he was homeless. Looking down at himself, he realized that he might have to step up his game as far as his appearance was concerned.

  “Uh, no, thanks. I was hoping to see Monty,” he took a wild shot that perhaps Brantworth Henderson had met his boating buddy at the shelter.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone named Monty,” the woman replied, looking as though she was about to escort Janssen to the door.

  “No problem, what about Brantworth? He’s a buddy of mine.”

  “Oh. Well, Brantworth isn’t in today. I haven’t seen him for a couple of days. I think he may be on vacation or something, I’m not sure,” the volunteer was glancing over Janssen’s shoulder as an argument broke out behind him. “I need to take care of this, won’t you excuse me?” she muttered, pushing past him to get to the altercation, which she defused in a matter of seconds.

  “Impressive,” he observed, as she passed by him on her way to return to her desk in the corner.

  “Look, I’m sorry that I can’t help you, but I’m alone here tonight and the natives are restless,” she looked pointedly at the door.

  “You’re alone?” Janssen frowned.

  “Temporarily. The night shift guy won’t show up for a few hours. I’ll be fine,” she added, noting the concern in his eyes.

  “You want me to stick around for a bit?”

  “I appreciate it, but no. Working a stranger into the mix, who hasn’t been screened and background checked is not something that I can do,” she sighed. “Jessie, get to a garbage can,” she hollered, as one of the residents started to gag, holding his stomach. “Look, I’ve really got to focus here,” she brushed past him again. “Have a nice evening.”

  “You too,” Janssen mumbled, making a beeline for the door as the overworked volunteer dealt with the retching resident.

  He took a grateful breath of fresh, if humid, air when he got outside, not realizing until he was out of the shelter how claustrophobic he’d been. The walls, filled with hopeless souls had begun closing in, and he was relieved to be out in the open again. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he opened a text from Spencer.

  Got a new assignment for you tomorrow. Come talk to me when you’re done.

  Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Janssen had only gone a few steps down the sidewalk, when the door to the shelter opened and a bedraggled-looking man came out.

  “Hey!” the man called out, shambling after him.

  Janssen turned with an inward sigh. He really wasn’t in the mood for dealing with someone who was a bubble off center. “Yeah?”

  “I know Brant. We’re friends,” he spoke slowly and the closer he got, the stronger the fumes on his breath became. The man wasn’t necessarily mentally unstable, but he was undeniably tipsy. Great.

  “Why you looking for him?” he stumbled a bit, caught himself and belched loudly.

  “I got something for him,” Janssen lied.

  “I can give it to him,” the man reached out a hand. “Gimme it.”

  “Nice try, man. You know where he is?”

  “What’s it worth to ya?” he grinned, exposing a mouth full of rotted teeth.

  “Sorry, brother, I don’t pay to play. Have a nice day,” Janssen turned, glad that the conversation was over and feeling like he needed a shower.

  He’d really gotten soft since he’d been back. There was a time after Afghanistan where he lived off of the land and had been grateful to find clean water to drink. Showers were few and far between, and food was scarce. Good times. Survival was pretty satisfying when it was all he’d had to think about.

  Heading back to the agency, Janssen found himself hoping that tomorrow’s assignment was more exciting than today’s. He’d had just about enough of dealing with people and pretending to be normal.

  **

  “This is probably going to be among the most challenging assignments you’ve ever done,” Spencer said gravely. “And before I tell you what it is, I want your assurance that you’ll do your best, no matter how rough it is out there.”

  “I always do,” Janssen shrugged. “And I’m pretty much at a point where I don’t really care what happens to me. Just being real.”

  “How are you doing emotionally? Are you strong enough to deal with what I’m about to throw at you?” Spencer probed.

  “Trust me, work is the only thing that I have the emotional strength for right now. Whatever you’ve got, I can deal with.”

  “Okay,” Spencer nodded. “Go to this address and see Missy. You’ve met her before. She’ll let you know what needs to be done,” he handed over a slip of paper.
/>
  Janssen’s raised eyebrows indicated his surprise. “Your boss’s wife is going to give me my assignment?”

  “It’s a delicate matter, but she’s a tough woman.”

  “This is a cupcake shop,” Janssen frowned down at the paper in his hand.

  “Things aren’t always as they seem,” Spencer cautioned.

  “You’re not going to make me kidnap her for her own good again, are you?” Janssen gave him a look, then stood and headed for the door.

  “No. At least, not yet. Good luck, man,” Spencer called after him.

  **

  “Good morning, Mr. Janssen,” Missy’s greeting seemed to hold equal measures of hospitality and relief.

  “Uh, call me Will,” he replied, feeling awkward.

  “Okay, Will,” she beamed at him, the normally attractive blonde seeming to have a special glow. “Would you like some cupcakes or coffee before you get started?” she asked.

  “No, thank you ma’am. I prefer to work on an empty stomach,” he grimaced.

  “Really?” she looked at him curiously. “Okay, then,” she chewed on her lip, not quite able to grasp the idea of someone going to work on an empty stomach. “Come with me,” she beckoned.

  Janssen followed his petite boss through a set of small swinging doors into a tiny commercial kitchen, where an ancient woman was mixing something in a bowl and a toddler sat on the counter, watching her raptly.

  “Okay Beulah,” Missy sang out. “I’m going to introduce Kaylee to her new babysitter.”

  She opened her arms to the little girl, who scampered into them for a hug.

  “Where is she?” the elderly woman put her hands on her hips and regarded Janssen with suspicion. “And who’s he? You know I don’t like no strangers in the kitchen when I’m baking,” she frowned.

  “This is Will. He’s going to be Kaylee’s babysitter for today,” Missy grinned.

  “What?” Beulah and Janssen exclaimed in unison.

  “You got to be kidding me,” Beulah’s eyes widened, taking in the scarred Marine in front of her. “You just picked up somebody off the street? I’ll watch this baby myself before I let the likes of him sit with her,” she challenged. “He can do my baking if you need help that bad,” she started to untie her apron.