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Murder by Numbers

Rycliff

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Murder by Numbers

 

Chapter One

 

Lt. Mike Hammond, detective in charge, determined that this would be the killer’s last victim. He is going to see that whoever is behind these murders will pay for it. He has a daughter who is in the same age range of these victims. Every time he sees them he can only think of how relieved that she isn’t the one lying in the bed dead. He looked at the body of the young girl. She is naked, with her hands handcuffed together, and then attached to one of the bedposts with a length of rope. The number 3 carved into her chest. The cut numeral is large approximately six or eight inches in its overall length and, about six inches in overall width. The incision is also deep and very precise. There are no bruises or any other marks on the body. All the hair on her head and pubic areas has been shaved, that is this sick bastards MO, such a weird anal-retentive part of these murders that didn’t make sense to anyone. The so far nameless girl was the third victim to be killed by this monster, that the newspapers had dubbed the Murder by Numbers Killer. The body looked as if it has been cleaned there is no blood on it; the bed and floor a different story.

Mike gagged as he studied the gash in the young woman’s chest. He turned her body over very carefully, as to avoid disturbing it any more than absolutely necessary, and looked for anything else that might help them determine what happened here. She was unable to supply the needed answers. There were no tattoos, no birthmarks, nor any stretch marks. It was maddening how anyone can kill without a trace. After the crime scene investigators and photographers were done. He allowed the coroner to take the body to the morgue. He looked at his watch; it was after 6:30 in the afternoon. It had been another long day. Theoretically he was off duty at 4:00 PM. But that would not be the case, anymore. Now, he would have to start the paperwork and make the preliminary report before going home. It would be past ten before he finally was able to leave the station and start the drive across town to his small, lonely residence.

Mike got up earlier then he would’ve liked. It is four o-clock in the morning. He stumbles into the small bathroom across the hall, and begins his daily routine. As he stands in front of the mirror looking back at his face with bloodshot eyes, and a thick mass of stubble, he realized that the twenty plus years he has spent on the police force hasn't been kind to him. Not that he is any stranger to the face that greets him, but it always looked like his hair is a shade grayer and his face had developed a few new deeper lines and that the eyes are just a bit more bloodshot. Well to be honest the bloodshot eyes were not caused by being on the force, well not a direct cause anyway, he thought. No deep down inside he knew the reason for those eyes, it was the same reason his wife left him over fifteen years ago. The demon, as she had called it. Alcohol. No he would not admit to being an alcoholic because he wasn’t. He simply needed to drink to forget the horrors of seeing gruesome sights every day. So he resigned himself to living another day and took his razor and shaved the stubble off his face, poured some hot water over his graying and thinning hair, combed it, brushed his teeth, gargled with some mouthwash, and decided he could get away with just some deodorant. Next he went to his room, rummaged through his dresser. He finally found some clean underwear and managed to find a pair of clean socks. He would need to do the laundry soon, the pile of dirty clothes was piling ever higher, and it was getting tougher to find clean clothes again. He picked a tie that was not stained; and found his last clean shirt that basically matched his tie enough to wear without being mistaken for a bum. He decided that yesterday’s pants still hanging over the chair were clean enough to wear again, so he did so.

Mike Hammond was not lazy, or not by the usual definition, he simply didn't have to impress anyone anymore. His wife had left him, she could not take the long hours, a phone call in the middle of the night announcing he would be coming home late again, nor could she take the drinking. Mostly she couldn't take the drinking, and the self loathing and doubt that it brought on. She was constantly telling him “You’re just asking to go to an early grave!” maybe he was, he thought to himself, so what. Nor did he have to impress his superiors; he had been tapped for Captain, but turned down the promotion, he would have liked to have the money, but then he would have been off the streets and behind a desk. That, he thought would be bucking for an early death. His only impression he wanted to make was on the scum he put away, he had always loved watching Colombo on TV, and he thought that he was the perfect detective. Colombo always had “just one more question.” Mike knew that in reality every crime had hundreds of questions, and you never got the advantage of having a suspect who would answer every one of them for you, like Colombo always had for him. But he, like his TV idol had a sterling career, he had put away over a three hundred murderers in his career. 305 to be exact. So over 22 years that averaged out to 13.86 murderers per year. He thought about that for a second while taking one last look in the hall mirror before stepping out the door. “Only 13 per year, man it sure has seemed to be a lot more than that.”

Mike made his way out to the car; ready to fight Houston traffic, he needed to get into the precinct early. He needed to look at the autopsy report and get copies of the photos from last night. He wanted to see if he had missed anything significant. He hadn’t of course but there was a very dead young lady and he wanted the killer off the street as soon as possible.

He got to his desk, just as a messenger was coming to deliver the faxed report to him. He sat down to read the report from the coroner. The report for Candice Mayers, age 22 was not exactly that helpful. According to the coroner she died from a myocardial infarction, simply put a heart attack. The report did say that it estimated, that it might have been brought on by the sexual activity, (not forced, according to the M.E) the report continued, it read: The gruesome stab wound and subsequent carving of the chest was done post death. The angle entry indicates it was accomplished left-handed. The precision of the post mortem wound, which penetrated deep into the heart, shows that great force was used. Note this would have been a killing blow if not for the actual cause of death. Disfigurement e.g. the numeral 3 carved into the chest cavity was done with extreme precise movements. The incision is 1 ¾ inches deep by ½ inch wide very detail oriented individual. Meticulous. Reasonable to assume suspect, may likely be a medical professional, possibly a surgeon or someone who studied to be a medical professional. No DNA evidence of any kind was found. Swabs were taken from the vaginal cavity as well as saliva samples. None showed positive for DNA other than subject. Assumable that a condom was used during intercourse. No traces of skin under subjects finger nails, conclusion no struggle ensued. No other visible bruises, marks or contusions to report, with the exception of moderate blunt trauma to the vaginal canal. But once again not conclusive nor indicative of sexual assault. Only other irregularities were found in the Toxicology Report. This stated that higher than normal levels of epinephrine and tyramines were found to be present in the blood, which could be indicative of a trigger for a myocardial infarction. Summary Death was caused by MyoCardial Infarction, which may have been caused by stress, anxiety, or extreme fear. Then the body was mutilated by a sharp object, possibly a straight razor or similar thin bladed weapon. After being stabbed deeply through the chest and heart, nearly cutting the heart in half. Note weapon used to penetrate the heart was not the same as was used for the carving of the chest. The knife used to stab the victim was more than likely a large butcher style knife, and was of superior grade and quality. Officially death was caused by murder, but unable to conclusively determine trigger for myo cardial infarction.

After reading the report, Mike thought about the chances a very healthy 22 year old female were for having a heart attack by natural causes, his conclusion was simply not able to be calculated, with a positive number. The fact that there was not any DNA evidence also went against him.

“Damn it all to Hell I need a break, I could have written this lousy report myself.” He shouted out in frustration. He needed to find out what it was that all the victims had in common, what set them apart. Why were they murdered? Who were their enemies and who were their friends? And he needed to find the answers quickly, if he wanted to prevent #4 from appearing next.

 

He went about looking at the other victim’s files for the umpteenth time. What he needed to find is a common thread, if one existed. What is it that tied these girls together? What commonalities do the share, who knew them and why are they being killed? Do they all know who their killer is? These and a hundred other unanswered , and possibly hundreds yet unasked ran through his head. They required more than one man hunting the answers down. He needed a partner; only thing is he didn’t have one. His partner for over 12 years retired, and the department has yet to replace him. Every time he asks when his new partner might be arriving, they keep telling him funding issues are preventing any new hiring, and manpower shortages are an issue department wide, just be patient we will get you a new partner soon. His partner “Ice” retired a year ago and he had dim hopes of seeing a new partner before his own retirement he thought gloomily.

He picked up the first folder in the pile. Victim number one, Her name was Hailey Davis. She was a 23-year-old student at Houston University. She was very attractive, she had, had long blond hair that went past the middle of her back, bright green eyes, and well-endowed bust. All these qualities were very visible in the annual Campus Coeds edition of Play Bunny Magazine, which a copy of said was, attached to the file Ms Davis was the centerfold. She was active in campus activities, and was a part of the campus life committee and also its president. She also was employed as a part-time exotic dancer at one the numerous Adult entertainment venues in Houston. The fact that Houston has more of such venues per capita than any other city including Las Vegas means there is always somewhere willing to hire a girl. Disgusting as this was to Mike’s sensitivities, he overlooked the character flaw. After all he was after a character with a much greater flaw.

Victim number two, Kelly Beare another typical college co-ed. She attended Houston’s Women and Teaching College. Kelly was an attractive 21-year-old female. Red hair, in long curls, that hanged, down to her shoulders. She was an education major and was rumored to have been dating the Houston University football team. She had an on-line webcam and chat room site that she charged a monthly membership fee. And on line she appeared in various stages of undress. By her bank records and tax records, and from talking to the site operator, she made a very good living. Mike thought that teaching would have been a let down, from a financial standpoint. She was making more money a year from her online business then Mike’s department chief did. Which was quite an achievement for a 21-year-old college student.

This brought him back to Candice Mayers. The first place he needed to start looking for answers would be neighbors, friends, classmates, etc. Where did she work? And why did she end up in her bed, dead.

Something was bothering Ms Andrea Jacobs, as she read the Houston Tribune, once again the lead story, on the front page was “Co-ed found in bed dead, Murder by Numbers Killer strikes again.” There was little real news within the meat of the story, but it sold papers she supposed. This killer had evaded police for nearly 3 months and was starting to kill sooner between victims; it meant that whomever was doing this was gaining a lot of self-confidence. That he was beginning to believe he was unstoppable. That signaled that maybe he would strike again much sooner then the police were looking for. She wished she could be on the case. It promised to be intriguing.

As she sat at her desk in the Houston FBI field office drinking coffee, she wondered how long it would take the local authorities to ask for the agency’s help in this case. The phone rang, and interrupted her thoughts.

“Andrea, I need to see you in my office as soon as possible.” The voice said when she answered.

“Okay meet you there in five minutes.” She replied. Well that answers that question she thought.

She made her way to the section chief’s office, and was told, “ Go right on in Ms Jacobs.” by an elderly lady who was the chief’s secretary. She went into the office, and sees a stout man who appears to have just woken up in her estimation.

“Please take a seat, both of you.” Said Mr. Franks pointing to a pair of seats, all the while looking at Mike. ‘

“Thanks” the two of them replied simultaneously.

Andrea, this is Mike Hammond, he is with the Houston Police Department, and is a detective within their homicide division. He has been assigned to the Murder by Numbers Killer case.

“Um I prefer not to use the media’s sensationalists name,” Mike interrupted, “I’d rather call it the current serial murderer case.”

“Okay fine, call it whatever you like.” But for the time being, that is a simple means of identifying the case.” Mr. Franks continued.

He offered her his hand and introduced himself “Lieutenant Mike Hammond” he said taking her hand and shaking it.

She took the pro-offered hand and said “Andrea Jacobs, Special Agent, criminal investigator and profiler.

“They have come to us for help in solving the case, and I am going to assign you temporarily to be Mr. Hammond’s partner until this case is closed. You’re the best profiler I have and to be perfectly honest, I want to get this killer of the streets, ASAP and I could care less about the feather in our caps, so I want you to collaborate with Mike, this is no time for agency rivalry. Mike that goes both ways, I don’t want your people dragging their feet by trying to keep everything a police matter, if I am going to lend you my brightest star, your people are going to do your share of the legwork is that understood?”

His answer came in the form of two heads nodding. And that was enough for him. He knew that he had done all he could. Andrea was the best mind and profiler he had; he wanted the monster of the streets as much as the next guy did

Andrea was the first to speak, ”I’ll need a copy of all the files you have, autopsy reports, interviews, everything. I will also need to know what suspects you may be tracking down. Also I want a complete outline of the investigation so far to this point, and I need it immediately.” She told him rather forcefully. Then she smiled and replied ”Sorry force of habit, usually I am asked to help investigations that have gone cold, and are considered dried up and unsolvable, but I solve ‘em and that’s what has put me at the top of the heap.”

“Well I can give you copies of everything I have, all I need to do is have central, fax the files over. As for an outline of the case to date I have most of my other notes in my car, why don’t you look them over, while I drive. I would like to interview the landlord, of the latest victim. And see if we can turn up a few leads along the way.”

So Andrea went about looking for clues. She picked up the coroner’s report for each of the victims, and read them over silently saying a prayer for each one. She made a vow to herself to bring this bastard to justice, and she really wasn’t thinking of a courtroom and a jury, but she would make sure he got that as well. They all followed pretty much the same thing, including heart attacks, which was odd. Why would young women in the prime of life and in otherwise generally good health suddenly suffer from a fatal heart attack? She would need to talk to each of the victims personal physicians to determine if any of them had previous heart trouble “

“The fact that most of circumstances of the crimes were similar was not an issue, most serial killers used the same methods each time they killed: for either simplicity, meaning it worked the first time it will work again. Or, it could be simply because they are sociopath. In most cases they also suffered from schizophrenia, and or other psychotic illnesses, that of course did not excuse their action” She explained to mike. ” It just simply labels it.” She continued. “They were usually very difficult to catch, especially if they did not make mistakes, and waited for a period of time between murders. Usually they did that too, and those we file away and wait for a break, like DNA evidence, an eyewitness, a fingerprint, or some other slip up on the assassin’s part.” “In this case,” she continued. “We have little to go on but I think we might want to look at the pornography and adult entertainment angle, plus I would like to talk to the individual victims’ personal physicians. Something about these young girls having fatal heart attacks seems to be out of place.”

“Well we are at least in agreement on that subject, as for the pornographic angle that has already been suggested. We simply did not have the manpower to cover all the angles.” Mike answered trying not to sound perturbed by Andrea’s veiled suggestion that maybe the police weren’t professional enough to see an obvious angle of attack. “Sex has killed more people, then any other reason on earth he reported” then kept quiet until they reached the crime scene.

 

Mike and Andrea went to the office for the small apartment complex, and asked to have the manager open the door to Candi’s Apartment. Once inside they went over every square inch of the place. They did not find much. There was no stash of illicit drugs, or an unusual amount of hidden cash. It was just a sensible apartment, with a small office in the corner of the living room. It also had a tiny kitchen, a bedroom and a claustrophobic bathroom. The only thing that looked even remotely out of place was a stack of books in the far corner of the living room. There were at least 50, and possibly larger hard cover, textbooks they went from floor to waist high and were in three rows. They ranged from English and literature, to Advance Calculus and physics. Along with the books of law and various other topics, they were not simple late night reading materials.

Mike questioned the manager about Candi. Where did she work? Did she work? Did she have a boyfriend, a girlfriend perhaps? The only thing that he got for an answer was that Candi never bothered anyone. She was always on time with the rent. She paid in cash, just according to the unwritten agreement they shared. He had never had any reason to worry about her doing something that might damage the apartment. She never had any loud parties or anything like that. In summary for the two years that she lived there she was the perfect tenant. So it was a complete surprise that had found her dead.

He told Mike that the only reason he entered the apartment that afternoon was because Ms Mayers had reported a leaky pipe in the bathroom the day before. So he was going to see if he could fix it himself. That way he wouldn’t have to call a plumber out, which would cost him a fortune. “They rob you blind those rotten con men, and that’s what they are too, I swear they don’t do nothing but use a little pipe tape, but they charge you 150 bucks and smile as they take the check from your hand.” “

“But anyhow never got that pipe fixed. I knocked on the front door, announced myself, she should have been out for the day, but sometimes she skipped a class or two. Know how it was when I was in school, so I understand. So anyhow I let myself into the apartment, and get to the bedroom door. I knocked again just because she might be sleeping, but no answer, so in I went, and I still wish I had stayed out. The sight of her like that, it still makes me want to puke my guts up.”

“What did you do then?” Mike asked ignoring his own unsteady stomach

“I dialed 911 from my cell phone, I didn’t touch a thing! And as quick I opened the door I closed it again, and went out the front door and locked it back up. Then I waited for the police to show up. I got one question to ask you all, when am I going to be able to clean everything up. I suppose I have to wait for the next of kin to take her belongings and such, but when can I start the scrubbing and such. Can’t go renting a messy apartment out, and I am going to lose a bunch on this one cause I have to tell every potential renter that a murder took place inside. Which will mean I won’t get squat for rent on it”

“Well, most likely not until we have concluded our initial investigation, give it a week or so, and then after we are sure we haven't missed anything significant, we will give you the go ahead to clear out the place.” Hammond responded.

The manager just mumbled as he walked back toward the office. And Mike and Andrea combed the apartment one last time looking for anything out of place but could not find anything they could identify as wrong.

Next Mike dropped Andrea off at the County General Hospital. She had decided to question a physician friend of hers about the fatal heart attacks in young women.

He drove to the Houston University, to find out any information on Candice Mayers. He was in the Admissions Office trying to get her class schedule from a secretary who seemed to be overzealous in citing personal privacy, when finally he was able to talk to her supervisor and got the proper permission to receive the records he sought.

“Thank you Ma’am” is all he said and started to walk towards the Student Center. He remembered back to his college days, and he always enjoyed walking on campus, it helped him clear his mind and think more clearly. Even now when he was on a really difficult case, like this one, he walked, sometimes just in circles around his desk, others outside at his favorite city park. So it was no surprise to find he was walking one of the many paths outside as he read the report he had in his hands.

He scanned the documents, and gave a low whistle as he went. “Beauty and brains to match.” He said softly to himself. The list was impressive. She had achieved Academic All-American, National Dean's list, maintained a 4.0 GPA, and she was a member of the debate team. Graduated with a BS in Criminal Psychology, enrolled in law school, 85 on the LSAT. Crying shame he thought to himself.

The afternoon went downhill from there. Every person he talked to said basically the same things: beautiful girl, bright, gifted, talented, rotten shame, robbed of a fine person, she would have made a great lawyer. One professor went on the record as saying, “ She was the best student of the law I have had in nearly 20 years of education. She attacked the law with zeal, which is exceptionally rare among the young today. She possessed that quality that allowed her to hold captive, her audience. At first you were mesmerized simply because she was beautiful, but then you stayed mesmerized because she overwhelmed you with her legal argument, and her mind.

Finally, he came to Mr. Charles Drake, Candi’s Psychology professor. After a few introductory questions, Mike got one of the pieces of the puzzle he needed.

“I first saw her at a hole in wall strip club off of the Richmond Strip,” he went on to say. She was a goddess, she was working for peanuts, that being the clientèle's that frequented those types of places, well usually frequented those kinds of places. I was there because I was sure no one would recognize me. So when I saw this beauty, this goddess, I was enamored, I decided to tip her, with a one hundred dollar bill.” He laughed as he remembered the incident. “I could not take me eyes off of her the entire night.” He said.

“The next week was the beginning of the new semester, and what would you guess, but her pretty face showed up in my class. The initial shock of seeing her walk through the door to my classroom was huge. I nearly spilled my coffee down the front of my shirt” he told them. “ She just smiled at me, probably didn’t even recognize me, anyway, she sat down in the front row and ignored my thinly veiled attempts at picking her up.”       

“Did you ever go back to the club to see her dance? Mike asked, all the while thinking about how disgusting it was to see creeps free on the street.

“Yes” was the simple reply.

“How many times” and how much money did you give her?”

“I don’t know, I never kept track. I would prefer not to answer any further questions, I have a class that starts shortly.” Mr. Drake responded. After stating this he went back to grading the stack of papers on his desk.

Thank you for your time Mr. Drake, I shall see you later.”

Guilty - that word kept swirling around Mike’s head. The man just feels dirty, and he even admitted to wanting a relationship. I need to investigate this one further.

His thoughts started to go in a thousand directions at once. He could imagine the scene: a pretty young girl rejects the advances of a pathetic old professor. The professor frequents her workplace and offers her lavish tips in the hope she will sleep with him, but she declines once too often. The old man goes off his nut and kills her. But according to the autopsy, that's not how it happened, he pondered. Unless the old guy confesses, we'll need conclusive, indisputable proof - the kind of proof that makes a jury squeamish, makes them hate the defendant. DNA, or better, a fingerprint, would be perfect. He was getting too far ahead of himself. Take it slow. The guy might be innocent. But in his heart, he knew. Not this time

Mike told Andrea about the encounter with Professor Drake, and asked for her thoughts. He needed to get an unbiased opinion, the guy just made him see red, and he needed to stay objective.

“What an interesting development” she stated, “ All of these murders are somehow linked to the adult entertainment industry, and we seem to have a dirty old man, who likes them young and naked. Hell, he even admitted to frequenting the same spot that one of them worked. Wow sounds like we need to get a warrant and get a few answers.”

“Well, we don’t have any proof for a warrant.”       

“Not yet.” She supplied, “But we will.”

They arrived at FBI headquarters, and he dropped her off, telling her that he would be their early to pick her up tomorrow. Then he drove to his precinct, to complete the day’s paperwork, the never ending, and part of the job he loathed. He would rather that this part of the job was given over to someone else. His partner used to write all the reports, Mike just supplied the details and then let him take it all and organize it into an amazing piece of art. He loved to think of old man, Hooper. They were a team, nearly brothers, and Hooper was the only real friend he had. When Isaac “Ice”, retired last year Mike was going to as well, they were going to start their own private investigation service. (H & H Investigations) But they never got the chance. A drunk driver in a head on collision killed Isaac, just three days after he had left the force. And Mike was left without anyone, except for Christie, his daughter. Which is why he needed to get this Bastard. He could not lose her as well.

Mike completed the reports and was ready to go home for the night, but he needed to check something out first. He was going to check out the strip club that Candi had been a dancer at. It really was on the way to the house; he had once lived on an upper middle class neighborhood, with all the amenities. But after the divorce he had to give the house to his ex-wife. He had to pay a small fortune every month in the form of child support. Additionally, the woman judge made him responsible for the lions’ share of their debt. This had led him to live in an area of town that most police officers were afraid to patrol in the daytime, and would rather forget about after dark. So stopping off at a strip club before sleeping was not too large of an inconvenience. He arrived at the Sweet Spot, and was asked by the valet parking attendant, to step out of the car, Mike showed is badge and was allowed to park the car himself.

Once inside the dark, smoke-filled club, his ears were assaulted by noise, that’s what he thought of it, there was a dancer in the center of the stage with a spotlight shining down on her. She was lying on her back with her head hanging over the edge of the stage so she could see the crowd. She was imitating an obscene sexual action. Mike turned away in time to see an attractive, barely dressed girl with a very perky attitude, who informed him of the twenty-dollar cover charge and the 3-drink minimum. Mike smiled and just pulled his badge and ID. That got her attention, and she immediately called for the manager. The manager walked over to Mike and asked the hostess if there was any trouble? Next he noticed Mike had a badge and looked at the ID he still help in one hand.

 

That was a preview of Murder by Numbers. To read the rest purchase the book.

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