Chapter 1
“I’m leaving,” Dottie announced as she whipped past the kitchen door, a swirl of pink and lavender fabric. “I’m going out now. I have an emergency. Get my car!” Dottie’s voice was loud. She was excited.
Cookie, housekeeper and friend of the Countess Dorothy Borghase, placed the platter of bacon on the counter. “Countess, I’ve just gotten your breakfast ready. Come in here and grab a bite before you leave.” Cookie stood at the kitchen door in her apron as she watched Dottie race down the hall toward the front door.
“No can do,” Dottie insisted as she shook her head side to side. Her voice was tense. “I’ve got a case. See if you can find Michaela and tell her to call me.” Her voice was bossy.
Cookie quickly left the kitchen and walked to the large marble foyer in the Countess’ elegant Monument Avenue mansion which is located in Richmond, Virginia. “Countess, please come and at least have some coffee. I’ll try to track down Michaela. What’s the huge rush?” Cookie smiled. “Nothing is worth missing your morning coffee.”
Dottie rolled her ice-blue eyes at Cookie. “It’s… it’s an emergency. Reva called and said…”
“Reva?” Cookie interrupted. “Do you mean your friend, Reva Rose?” Cookie stared at Dottie, who seemed perplexed and upset about something.
“Yes, yes.” The Countess rolled her eyes; her voice was impatient. “You know Reva from the country club. Reva, my friend, whose son died six months ago.”
Cookie nodded. “Of course, I do. She’s lovely, and she’s one of your dearest friends.” She paused as she admired Dottie’s choice of clothing. “So, what could be so wrong that she’s got you in such a state that you’re running out of here before noon on a Saturday morning without breakfast?”
Dottie peeked through the leaded glass of her front door. “It looks like it’s gonna rain,” she wailed as she tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear. She grabbed a black umbrella from the brass umbrella stand and reached for the enormous brass doorknob. Is my Cadillac out front? I’ve gotta leave now.”
Cookie circled around her boss and stood in front of the door. She shook her head. “Now Countess, we’ve had this conversation before. Let me call Henry, and he can drive you wherever you need to go.” She pointed down the hall. “Just go back in the kitchen and have a cup of coffee while he gets the car out. Nothing’s gonna happen in the next fifteen minutes.” Cookie held Dottie’s eyes with her own. “Please,” she begged.
Dottie’s face colored with anger. She lifted her chin. “I’ve told you, Cookie, I can drive myself. I don’t care what any of you say, I’m perfectly safe in my Cadillac. There’s plenty of metal all around me! I won’t get hurt.” Her voice was high-pitched and arrogant. She glared at Cookie, her eyes filled with anger.
Cookie held her ground as she tried to reason with Dottie. “Yes, we know you can drive, but you’re not our first worry, Dottie. Mic told you her concern about the other drivers on the road. You know how narrow the streets are in the Fan District and we can’t have you taking up the entire road.”
Dottie drew herself up to her full height of five foot eight. In her younger days, she had been five ten and a half, but after eighty-three years, she’d been forced to admit she’d lost a couple of inches due to her persistent osteoporosis. She was still an impressive woman. She stood ramrod straight, with every hair in place. As always, she was immaculately dressed and perfectly groomed. She scowled at Cookie. “I’m not gonna hurt anyone else, and I’m not gonna have anyone telling me whether I can or cannot drive. I have a legitimate driving license. I’m of perfectly sane mind, and my vision is as good as yours is. Plus, I can probably hear better than you and Henry put together.” Dottie’s frown covered her entire face.
The ringing of Dottie’s house phone interrupted the two women. “Oh, it’s probably Michaela. Let me get the phone, and I’ll bring it to you in the kitchen, Countess.” Cookie gushed as she rushed to grab the house phone while Dottie gritted her teeth.
Cookie looked back. “I’ll bring the phone to the kitchen, Dottie. Now go have a seat.”
It was Dottie’s best friend, Michaela McPherson, her “sort of” adopted daughter. Michaela was a retired Richmond homicide detective and the owner of Biddy McPhersons Pub, an Irish bar and restaurant located in Richmond’s nightclub district, Shockoe Bottom.
Dottie rolled her eyes as she marched down the wide center hall and took a left into the kitchen. A minute later, Cookie returned to the kitchen and handed her the phone.
“Michaela! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for almost an hour.” Dottie’s voice was whiny. For some reason, she always expected Michaela to be at her beck and call every day, all day.
Mic pressed the button on her key fob to open the back of her SUV. “Yeah, I can see that,” Mic replied in a wry voice. “You’ve called and sent me a bunch of texts. I’m busy, but if you must know where I am, I’ll tell you.” Mic rolled her eyes. Sometimes Dottie irritated the heck out of her, and this was one of those times.
“Will you hurry up,” Dottie blurted impatiently. “I have something important to tell you, and I may need your help.”
Mic could imagine the fierceness and anger in the Countess’ face. Dottie was spoiled, arrogant, rich, and impatient. Nevertheless, she was also kind, selfless, and generous to those she loved. They’d been friends for years, and Michaela knew Dottie regarded her as the daughter she’d never had.
Mic continued. “Well, if you really must know, Dottie, I’m at Home Depot, and I’m picking out flowers for my deck. It’s April, and I need to get my yard in order.” Mic pulled her cart closer to her vehicle to unload the plants.
Dottie groaned. “I’ll send Henry over. Henry can fix your yard. We’ve got work to do. I think we have a new case.”
Mic groaned inwardly and shook her head. Sunlight danced through her short, dark curls. “I don’t want Henry to fix my yard. I want to do my own yard, Dottie. I like to play in the dirt, and you should learn how.” Mic’s voice was firm. She could practically hear Dottie shudder in the background. Countesses, especially the Countess Dottie Borghase, didn’t get dirty, much less play in the dirt. She couldn’t imagine her arrogant, aristocratic Italian countess friend digging in the dirt for anything, not even gold coins.
“And, just how long will you be digging in the dirt, Michaela?” Dottie’s voice was snotty, her tone acerbic.
“I don’t know for sure, but I could take a detour, come over and pick you up for lunch, and you can tell me what you’re all in a hot twit about on a beautiful Saturday morning,” Mic offered with a smile in her voice.
“How soon? How soon can you get here?” Dottie’s voice was sharp and insistent. “That might be a good idea. We can strategize over lunch.”
“Maybe as quickly as fifteen or twenty minutes. Is that soon enough?” Mic’s voice was tinged with sarcasm. She was sometimes irritated with Dottie’s demands but had learned how to deal with her over the years.
Dottie sighed loudly into the phone. “Well, I guess it will just have to be. Pick me up in the driveway,” she directed in her bossy voice as she clicked off the phone.
Michaela instantly knew she wouldn’t do what Dottie asked. Whenever Dottie tried to boss her around, she did the exact opposite of what Dottie wanted. She shook her head and looked down at Angel, her retired German Shepherd police dog, who stood by her side. Angel shook his head. He could hear Dottie’s voice. “By the way, what are you so anxious about? What’s got you in such a high case of twit?”
Dottie glanced over at Cookie who pretended not to listen. She whispered loudly, “You remember my friend, Reva Rose, from the country club whose son, Robert, died a few months ago?”
“Yeah, sure, I do. Her son was a banker, a good one. I liked him. He was a good guy.”
“Yeah, well, Reva and her daughter-in-law planned to spread his ashes today, and they’ve discovered the ashes the crematory gave them aren’t Robert’s ashes.”
Michaela paused, a flat of begonias in her hand. “What do you mean? How would they know they weren’t his ashes?” Mic’s green eyes were bright with interest.
Dottie’s voice was clipped and impatient. “Will you listen, Michaela? Also, please don’t interrupt me. The ashes don’t belong to her son. They’re not Robert’s ashes.”
Michaela hesitated and was quiet for a moment. “How do you know? How would they know they aren’t his ashes?”
Dorothy sputtered. “I don’t know how they know, but they know! I guess they feel it or something. Reva says there is metal in them and Robert didn’t have any metal fragments in his body.”
Michaela hesitated for a moment. She had to admit to herself that she was curious. “There’s always a chance the metal could be from fillings in his teeth or something.”
Dottie sighed deeply. “Michaela, Robert had false teeth. There were no fillings. Now, will you stop interrupting me and get over here?”
“All right, Dottie, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Pick me up in the circle at the front door,” Dottie ordered. “I’ll be ready. I’m gonna go sit on the beach and wait.”
Mic shook her head. There was no way she would follow Dottie’s order. “I’ll see you shortly,” she ended in a sweet voice.
Chapter 2
Lieutenant Slade McKane, Richmond’s top homicide cop for special crimes, stood over a body deeply hidden in Bryan Park, a lovely public park located in Richmond, Virginia’s north side. The body was partially covered with leaves and was located directly behind Bryan Park’s renowned azalea gardens. Slade looked at the body and shook his head. “Well, what d’you think?”
The forensic tech shook his head. “Looks like the same killer to me, Lieutenant, but Dr. Chu will be able to tell for sure. She should be here fairly soon.” The tech bagged the guy’s hands and snapped a few pictures. “I’m not gonna turn him until Dr. Chu arrives,” he informed Slade.
“Yeah, okay.” Slade knew the tiny, eighty-something-pound Asian medical examiner liked to view bodies before they were moved. Dr. Chu was little in stature, but her influence was huge. She was one of the best forensic examiners on the East Coast, and the city of Richmond, Virginia was lucky to have her. Virginia’s forensic unit was one of the best in the United States. Slade remembered the incompetence of the New Orleans medical examiner. It was often a joke. He continued to view the body.
It was the body of a young man, most likely Hispanic. The man looked to be about twenty-two to twenty-five years of age. He’d been dead a while. Slade turned his head at the noise of a car. He watched as a police cruiser pulled into the parking lot. It was his partner, Charlie Thor. Charlie drove up and parked near the entrance to the Azalea Gardens. Slade waved at him. Charlie returned the wave and walked toward him.
Slade turned his attention back to the forensic team. “So, do you think it’s the same perp who’s been around recently?” he queried in a tired voice. This was the second similar murder of a young person that had occurred in as many weeks.
The man nodded. “It seems so to me, but Dr. Chu’s the one who can say for sure.” The man turned and issued a few orders to his team that was collecting evidence around the area. “Y’all get over here. Let’s split up and walk the scene.”
Slade gritted his teeth as he watched the forensic team working. He waved at Charlie as he moved closer.
“Charlie, my man, it was a good day until now, wasn’t it?” Slade grinned; his black eyes glittered at Thor. The two were good friends, and Charlie was the best detective assigned to the special crimes unit.
Charlie moved over and looked down at the body. He shook his head. “Another young guy. What’s up with this?” Charlie’s eyes held Slade’s dark ones. “You got a cause of death?”
Slade shook his head. “Nah. Not Yet. Don’t know for sure, but Dr. Chu will be here soon, and she’ll tell us. The body’s been here a day or so.” Slade’s lips were compressed into a thin line. He hated murders. He particularly hated murders he couldn’t immediately solve, especially when there was more than one of them. He didn’t like being outsmarted by criminals.
Charlie dropped to his knees and looked at the young man’s forearm closely. “He’s got a gang tattoo. He must be a member of one of the local gangs.” He pulled out his iPhone and snapped a picture. “I’ll text this to one of the guys who works in the gang unit.” He stared at the young man’s face. “I wonder if we lookin’ at gang activity.”
That hadn’t occurred to Slade, but he doubted it. “Humph. Don’t know. Last week our vic was Asian, so maybe.” He shook his head and stood.
Charlie shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know either, but I’ll check it out.” He looked at his picture. “I’m gonna text this to my buddy.”
Slade sighed deeply. “Good idea. It’s for sure crime’s going up.” Richmond, once a city with the highest numbers of murders per capita, had significantly decreased their murder rate in recent times. Major crimes had gone down steadily for about ten years. Now, unfortunately, it seemed to be on the rise again.
The crime scene tech interrupted. “Dr. Chu is about five minutes out. She asked that you wait.”
“We’ll be here,” Slade assured him. He and Charlie shuffled their feet and chatted about Richmond’s increasing crime.
“Let’s do a grid,” Charlie suggested with one more look at the young man’s body.” Slade nodded, and they moved out in a grid pattern to search for evidence, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
A few minutes later, Richmond’s famous medical examiner, Dr. Jing Chu, arrived in her Richmond City vehicle with “Medical Examiner” emblazoned on the side. Slade watched as the tiny Chinese lady hobbled out of her car, and walked around to her trunk to gather her medical bag. He was concerned as he watched her limp toward the crime scene.
“Looks like Dr. Chu’s hurt her leg. I wonder what’s up with that,” Slade noted as he and Charlie watched the tiny woman.
Charlie nodded. “Yeah, it sure does. Let’s go see if she needs some help,” he suggested as the doctor hobbled toward them.”
Slade and Charlie met the diminutive woman halfway, about seventy yards, from the crime scene. Slade reached for her medical bag, and Charlie offered her his arm.
Charlie greeted the forensic examiner with a smile. “Morning, Dr. Chu. Looks like you’ve got gimp leg. What happened?” Charlie flashed Slade a concerned look. Dr. Chu’s face was pale and etched in pain. He was surprised when Dr. Chu accepted his offered arm.
“Thanks, Detectives. I can use some help.” She smiled slightly as she paused, a little short of breath. “Let me rest for a second.”
Slade raised his eyebrows. Neither of them had ever known Dr. Chu to ask for or accept help. She was the ultimate independent, stubborn professional who never veered from her professional demeanor.
Slade nodded. “Absolutely. You can rest as long as you like. I can guarantee you that your patient isn’t going anywhere,” he joked. “He’ll stay just like he is until we get there.”
Dr. Chu smiled. “Yes, I suspect he will.” Slade noticed Dr. Chu’s face was lined and that she had dark circles under her eyes. She looked exhausted. He’d never thought of Jing Chu as elderly, or even middle-aged for that matter. He’d always admired her energy, tenaciousness, and intellect. He knew she had two children in their early twenties and that she was a widow. Today, she looked old and tired. That was very different.
“What’d you do to your leg?” Charlie asked.
Slade noticed a shadow flicker across Dr. Chu’s face.
She responded quickly. “Oh, nothing. I banged it on the footboard of my bed. It’ll be okay in a couple of days,” she answered with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s just a bruise,” she assured them as she brushed their concern away. “It just hurts more than most bruises,” she admitted.
Slade wasn’t so sure. She seemed to be in a lot of pain. He noticed her left foot; it was swollen to almost twice its usual size. “Your foot looks pretty bad. It’s swollen.”
Dr. Chu ignored him and began to walk. “Let get over to the scene. My team said he’s been here a day or so.” She turned to Slade, “I told you, Lieutenant, I banged my foot against my footboard. My foot is okay, just swollen.”
That was an understatement. “It’s very swollen. I’m not sure you should even be on it,” Slade commented.
“Who’s the doctor here, Lieutenant McKane?” Dr. Chu snapped. “I think I can take care of myself.”
Slade nodded. He’d gotten the message. He carried Dr. Chu’s medical bag as she and Charlie proceeded slowly and painfully to the crime scene.
Dr. Chu shook her head when she looked at the man on the ground. “He’s young, just like the others. This killer appears to target young men, at least so far. This is the second one.” She let out a painful gasp as she squatted to observe the body more closely. Her face contorted with pain. Charlie rushed to help her. Obviously, squatting was more painful than walking.
Slade bit his tongue in his effort not to help the proud, prideful physician.
Charlie shot Slade a look of concern and shook his head. Slade shrugged his shoulders. He’d gotten the message.
The two men watched Dr. Chu perform her exam but remained silent. Finally, Dr. Chu looked up at her crime scene team. “Roll him over for me.”
Slade’s dark eyes narrowed as he saw the victim’s bloodstained shirt. He watched as the forensic tech rolled the young man’s shirt up carefully and deliberately. Dr. Chu watched carefully. She sighed deeply.
“What do you think, Dr. Chu?” Charlie’s voice was quiet.
Chu shook her head. “I can’t be sure yet, Detective, but at first pass, it looks like the same killer. Let’s get the wagon here and get him downtown. I’ll autopsy him this afternoon and get back to you tonight.”
Slade had tremendous respect for the way Dr. Chu handled her murder victims. She always protected their dignity as best she could. Dr. Chu was adamant about victim privacy and often enlarged crime scene perimeters to keep the public away from victims who’d experienced murder and mayhem. She was an advocate for the dead and for every victim that showed up on her autopsy table.
He watched as Dr. Chu probed the man’s side with experienced, gloved hands.
“You see this Slade, Charlie?” Jing took a deep breath. “I think this case is gonna mirror the other one. It’s the body snatcher again. This guy is most likely missing a kidney, maybe both of them. When I get him on the table, I’ll be able to see if they stole anything else.” Dr. Chu shook her head. Slade could tell she’d clenched her teeth; something she frequently did when she was angry or felt stress. Jing’s face was flushed, and he could see a vein throbbing in her neck. She was angry.
Slade nodded as the medical examiner continued. “Yeah, I think Richmond has its own body snatcher. And whoever is in charge seems to be selecting immigrants.”
Dr. Chu scowled as she examined the young man’s back. “Snatchers frequently target illegals or vulnerable people who are less likely to be missed.” She looked into Slade’s eyes. “We have an endless supply of non-traditional Americans in our area. They’re poor and are rarely missed by their families. Lots of them are illegal.” She probed under the wide incision in the man’s trunk area. “Yeah, I think they’ve taken more than a kidney.”
“What else, Doc?” Charlie asked as he leaned down for a better view. Charlie turned his face away from the metallic stench of blood that had pooled under the victim’s body.
Chu shook her head. “I won’t know for sure until I do the autopsy.”
Slade stared at the wounds in the man’s back. Whoever had cut him open had stitched him up haphazardly with long heavy thread – the kind of thread that you’d use to sew heavy upholstery fabric. He could only imagine the gauge of the needle. He cursed softly under his breath. His black Irish temper was about to erupt. No one deserved to be cut up, robbed of his vital organs, and sewn up like a piece of fabric.
“Who in the hell does this crap?” Charlie’s voice was outraged. “This guy could’ve died from pain.” He scowled at the haphazard, vicious incision. “It’s positively barbaric.”
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