Konarth, Joe - Jack Daniels 02 - Bloody Mary by Konrath
Authors: Konrath
Tags: Adult Trade
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knife. He’ll beat him to death.
As for Lieutenant Daniels . . .
The good lieutenant is tough, and strong. She’ll be good for a whole evening’s entertainment, in his little plastic room on the South Side.
And maybe, if he’s careful, he could make her last the whole weekend.
CHAPTER 14
It took most of the afternoon to set up the surveillance.
After playing catch-the-subpoena at the courthouse, Herb and I managed to get access to the call log from Colin Andrews’s cell phone. There were only three numbers on the list. One was to Davi McCormick’s place, one was to a call girl named Eileen Hutton, and one was to a TracFone owned by someone named John Smith.
Eileen Hutton had a record—she worked for a high-roller escort service similar to Davi’s. A search of her apartment found it empty and without any signs of foul play, and a call to her employer found them worried sick because Eileen had missed her last two dates.
A TracFone was one of those prepaid cell phones that could be bought at drugstores, electronics stores, or on the Internet. They’re a cop’s worst nightmare. It’s simple to set up an anonymous account by using a fake name and then buying phone cards with cash.
We obtained another subpoena and secured the records from the TracFone that the killer had been calling. No calls listed going out, and the only calls coming in were from Colin’s cell.
After talking at length with several people at the phone company, it proved impossible to set up any kind of tracking or tracing of the phone. But we were able to track the prepaid cards being used for minutes. The phone had been bought two months ago at an Osco Drug on Wabash and Columbus. Two weeks after that, a twenty-minute phone card had been purchased at the same place.
According to the recent bill, those minutes were due to expire tomorrow. Which meant a new phone card would have to be purchased, hopefully from the same drugstore.
Since we suspected the killer to be a cop, I was climbing the walls trying to figure out who to put on the surveillance teams. I played the sexism card, and put two teams of three female officers on eight-hour shifts. If the killer was a woman, I might have been blowing the entire stakeout, but I just couldn’t reconcile a woman cutting off someone’s arms.
Anyone who bought a phone card or a new phone at the Osco would be tailed. Anyone with access to the county morgue—cops, morticians, doctors—would be red-flagged and I’d get an immediate call.
According to the store, they sold between five and ten phone cards a day. I hoped three officers on the scene would be enough, but I did have the resources for more.
“We’re getting close,” Herb said.
“It’s still a shot in the dark, Herb. The person who owns the TracFone might not even be an accomplice. It could be someone who doesn’t even know the perp.”
“If we look at the call logs, it works out. The perp called Davi’s place at two forty-five P.M. She called him back at six fifteen. Then, at nine twenty, the perp calls the TracFone. In Eileen’s case, the perp calls her yesterday at ten thirty A.M. , then again at three twelve P.M. Three hours later, at six oh two, he calls the TracFone.”
“You think he’s abducting these women, then calling someone to join the party?”
“Or to help with the disposal.”
I mulled it over. My eyes drifted to the phone. I’d called Latham three times, and he hadn’t called back. I fought the urge to check my messages again.
I’d also called my mother, twice. She still wasn’t accepting my calls.
I wonder if Alexander Graham Bell knew, back when he invented the telephone, how much control his device would have over the lives of so many people. Especially mine.
I switched gears. “We might be missing a connection between Davi and Eileen.”
Benedict flipped through his notes. “There doesn’t have to be a connection. Both have priors. The killer could have been searching for likely
As for Lieutenant Daniels . . .
The good lieutenant is tough, and strong. She’ll be good for a whole evening’s entertainment, in his little plastic room on the South Side.
And maybe, if he’s careful, he could make her last the whole weekend.
CHAPTER 14
It took most of the afternoon to set up the surveillance.
After playing catch-the-subpoena at the courthouse, Herb and I managed to get access to the call log from Colin Andrews’s cell phone. There were only three numbers on the list. One was to Davi McCormick’s place, one was to a call girl named Eileen Hutton, and one was to a TracFone owned by someone named John Smith.
Eileen Hutton had a record—she worked for a high-roller escort service similar to Davi’s. A search of her apartment found it empty and without any signs of foul play, and a call to her employer found them worried sick because Eileen had missed her last two dates.
A TracFone was one of those prepaid cell phones that could be bought at drugstores, electronics stores, or on the Internet. They’re a cop’s worst nightmare. It’s simple to set up an anonymous account by using a fake name and then buying phone cards with cash.
We obtained another subpoena and secured the records from the TracFone that the killer had been calling. No calls listed going out, and the only calls coming in were from Colin’s cell.
After talking at length with several people at the phone company, it proved impossible to set up any kind of tracking or tracing of the phone. But we were able to track the prepaid cards being used for minutes. The phone had been bought two months ago at an Osco Drug on Wabash and Columbus. Two weeks after that, a twenty-minute phone card had been purchased at the same place.
According to the recent bill, those minutes were due to expire tomorrow. Which meant a new phone card would have to be purchased, hopefully from the same drugstore.
Since we suspected the killer to be a cop, I was climbing the walls trying to figure out who to put on the surveillance teams. I played the sexism card, and put two teams of three female officers on eight-hour shifts. If the killer was a woman, I might have been blowing the entire stakeout, but I just couldn’t reconcile a woman cutting off someone’s arms.
Anyone who bought a phone card or a new phone at the Osco would be tailed. Anyone with access to the county morgue—cops, morticians, doctors—would be red-flagged and I’d get an immediate call.
According to the store, they sold between five and ten phone cards a day. I hoped three officers on the scene would be enough, but I did have the resources for more.
“We’re getting close,” Herb said.
“It’s still a shot in the dark, Herb. The person who owns the TracFone might not even be an accomplice. It could be someone who doesn’t even know the perp.”
“If we look at the call logs, it works out. The perp called Davi’s place at two forty-five P.M. She called him back at six fifteen. Then, at nine twenty, the perp calls the TracFone. In Eileen’s case, the perp calls her yesterday at ten thirty A.M. , then again at three twelve P.M. Three hours later, at six oh two, he calls the TracFone.”
“You think he’s abducting these women, then calling someone to join the party?”
“Or to help with the disposal.”
I mulled it over. My eyes drifted to the phone. I’d called Latham three times, and he hadn’t called back. I fought the urge to check my messages again.
I’d also called my mother, twice. She still wasn’t accepting my calls.
I wonder if Alexander Graham Bell knew, back when he invented the telephone, how much control his device would have over the lives of so many people. Especially mine.
I switched gears. “We might be missing a connection between Davi and Eileen.”
Benedict flipped through his notes. “There doesn’t have to be a connection. Both have priors. The killer could have been searching for likely
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