Last Known Victim

Patti shifted her gaze. Left hand intact. Long, square-tip nails, most probably synthetics. Red polish. Half dozen bangle bracelets adorning the wrist.

“Hello, friends.”

Deputy Coroner Ray Hollister had pulled this one. Lucky him.

He looked at the victim, then scowled up at the su

As if on cue, they simultaneously murmured their agreement. He slipped into his gloves. “Somebody want to fill me in?”

Patti did, quickly. He nodded

He examined the victim’s left hand. “No defensive wounds. Nails all intact. Bet they’ll come back clean.”

“Means she didn’t fight,” Spencer said.

“Most probably didn’t see it coming.” The coroner frowned, studying the wound. “Interesting entry point,” he said. “Her left side. Gun was quite close to the victim when fired. Notice the tattooing.”

Sure enough, a telltale “tattoo” circled each wound. Upon discharge, particles of burned gunpowder and primer exploded from a gun’s barrel, depositing on both shooter and victim. Much could be learned from the amount and patterning of the particles, including the angle and distance of the shooter. The tighter the circle, the closer the gun.

“First shot,” he said, pointing to the smallest circle. “Second,” he continued, indicating the other.

Patti agreed. “We’ll need to take a good look at the bullet’s trajectory.”

“Wonder why he didn’t shoot her in the head,” Tony murmured.

“Maybe he thought it was too messy,” Spencer offered. “Or too visible.”

Patti nodded. “What if they were in a car? He’s driving, has a gun tucked in a handy position-”

“Pardon the pun.”

“-and squeezes off a shot before she knows what’s happening.”

“No big mess for the world to see.”

“The shot doesn’t kill her. She slumps in her seat, he rips off another one.”

“It does the trick, if not immediately, soon enough. He drives on. Nobody notices a thing.”

The coroner carefully examined the other entry point, then glanced up at her. “From what I’m seeing, your scenario could work, Captain. But so could others.”

Lucky them. “How long’s she been dead?”

“My ‘in the field’ guess, four or five days. It’s been hot. We’ve had a couple good rains and she’s totally exposed. Give me some light.”

Spencer directed his penlight beam to the spot the coroner indicated-one of the wounds. The light revealed a squirming world of activity-bugs, doing their part in the decomposition dance.

“Ultimately the insects will tell the tale.”

The lab’s entomologist would collect samples of the insect life on the corpse and provide an estimated time frame based on the stage of growth or development of the larvae.

“A Bug’s Life,” Tony quipped. “I’ll never look at that kid’s movie in quite the same way.”

“What about the missing hand, Ray?”

“Gone,” he deadpa

“We need to know if this is the work of the Handyman. Can you compare this sample to the originals?”

“I’ll do the best I can, though I specialize in flesh, not bones.” He suddenly looked impatient. “Mind if I get to it? I’m about to get sunstroke.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, simply set about his business.

Patti looked at Tony. “Get Elizabeth Walker. I want her to compare this victim’s severed wrist bone with the samples found in the Katrina refrigerator. ASAP.”

She shifted her gaze to Spencer. “We need a name. The sooner we ID her, the sooner we-”

“I think I can help there,” the coroner said.

They looked down at the man, crouched beside the body. Very carefully he eased a gloved finger under one of the woman’s necklaces and lifted it away from her shirt.

The sun caught on the gold pendant. Gold twisted into curving, ornate letters. They spelled Tonya.

53

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

11:05 a.m.

Spencer looked at Patti. “What? You know who this is?”

“Tonya Messinger. It has to be. Yvette’s friend, the one she said was missing.”

She hadn’t been fabricating.

“Tonya who?” Tony asked.

Patti ignored him and looked at her watch, expression concerned. “I’ve got to go. Keep me posted. Every detail.”

“Go?” Tony frowned. “Captain, with all due respect, this is too big for you to step back from now.”

“I agree,” Spencer said. “Seems to me you need to call an end to your leave. I suspect full support will be available now.”

Tony looked at Spencer. “Support for what?”

He went on as if Tony hadn’t spoken. “If this really is the work of the Handyman, Franklin’s off that particular hook. And you know what that means.”

The chief would be out his jailed suspect. And be anxious to land another.

It changed everything.

“I’ll think about it,” Patti said. “Yvette’s still the best lead we have. And I made a promise to keep her safe.”

“We can do that better as a team than you can alone.”

“Keep who safe?” Tony asked, confused.

“Like I said, I’ll think about it.”

Patti started off; Spencer stopped her. “I’m going to need to question her.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Yes, you will. I’ll make certain she’s available.”

He watched her walk away, then turned back to Tony. “I suppose you’d like me to cut the crap and tell you what’s going on.”

“I’d appreciate it, Slick. Now would be good.”

Spencer filled in Tony as best he could, skimming over facts that would prove troublesome for Patti. If Tony suspected he was still being partially bullshitted-which he probably did-he was a good-enough friend not to say so.

When he’d finished, Tony said, “You need to question Borger.”

“Absolutely.”

“Mind if I ride shotgun?”

“It’ll be like old times.”

They left the scene to the techs and coroner’s reps. Once buckled into the Camaro, Spencer dialed Patti. “Tony and I are on our way. Where are you?”

“Yvette’s apartment,” she answered.

“Twenty minutes,” he said, then hung up.

He dialed Elizabeth Walker next. “Big news. We’ve got ourselves a new Handyman victim. Or what appears to be one of the Handyman’s.”

“You want me to evaluate the amputation?”

“Give the lady a gold star. When can you be here?”

“Three hours. That’s the best I can do.”

“Call me when you’re thirty minutes out. I’ll meet you.”

He hung up and Tony sent him an amused glance. “What did we do before cell phones?”

“Don’t know, man. Lived like animals.”

Tony chuckled. “Speaking of you being an animal, have you called Stacy yet?”

“Patti probably did.”

“Way to weenie out. She should hear it from you.”

He hadn’t spoken to her since she moved out, a fact Tony was aware of. “What about my manly pride? My dignity and-”

“Jackass stupidity? Seems a bit of crow-eating might be in order.”

Spencer scowled at him. “You suck, you know that?”

Tony laughed. “Just my opinion, Slick.”

Grumbling to himself, Spencer opened his phone and dialed Stacy. “Hey,” he said when she answered.

“Back at you,” she replied.

“I wanted to let you know, looks like you and Patti were right. Tonya Messinger turned up dead today.”

“Where?”

“Lower Ninth. Shot twice. Right hand severed.” He heard her sharply indrawn breath. “Yeah, things just got freaky. I’m on my way to interview Yvette. Patti’s with her.”

“What are Patti’s plans?”

“Don’t know yet. What’re yours?”

“What do you hope they’ll be?”

Spencer angled a glance at Tony, who saw it and gri

“Tell her you love her,” Tony said. “That you’re a jackass and want her back.”

“Is that Tony?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Being a jerk. I’ll keep you posted.”

Patti buzzed them into the courtyard, then met them outside Yvette’s door. “What’s the latest?” she asked before they even cleared the threshold.