Speaking for the Dead Page 11

  “Yes, I am. What is going on?” Markland was taken aback. It wasn’t the answer that he had been expecting.

  “We understand that you worked with Sunny Cargill. We’d like to talk to you about her,” Moseby said with quiet authority. Markland looked at him for a long moment and then opened the door.

  “Sure, come on it,” Markland invited them. Once they were inside, Moseby pulled the door shut to conserve the overworked air-conditioning.

  Moseby and French followed Markland into a large living room that held a couch, two reclining chairs, a big coffee table and a television replete with DVD player and video-gaming system. Markland took the couch and he and French took the recliners, keeping Markland between them.

  “What exactly was your relationship with Sunny Cargill,” Lucy asked as they sat down.

  “She was my boss. Sometimes we ran the same trails,” Markland shrugged.

  “Did you like her? As a boss I mean?”

  “She was better than some, worse than others. She was all about us passing surveys and then once that was done she would call back and tell the customer they were out of luck and had to pay the full bill. I always hated that,” Markland said.

  “Is that a common practice for call centers?” Moseby asked.

  “As far as I know,” Markland shrugged. Moseby pulled out a notebook and took notes. He had turned his digital recorder on without Markland being aware of it. It would catch things that he might miss.

  “Sunny was a very driven woman. She took it out on her team if things weren’t going well. A lot of us resented her for that.”

  “Did Sunny fraternize with her team outside of work?” Lucy asked.

  “Uh, I don’t know if I should really answer that,” Markland shook his head.

  “Why is that, Richard?” Lucy asked him. Markland blushed.

  “She did, okay? I’m not proud of it, but I slept with my boss. We ran together and had sex sometimes.”

  “Were you the only one?” Moseby looked at him.

  “No. She ran with Jason and Doug as well. Doug made his brags that he had slept with her too,” Markland was staring at the floor as he admitted it.

  “You don’t particularly like Doug Carrington, do you?” Moseby asked.

  “Nope. Doug thinks that he is God’s gift to women. He brags around the office that he’s never met a woman that he couldn’t get to drop her pants,” Markland sighed.

  “What about you?” Lucy asked him.

  “I’ve got a steady girlfriend. Her name is Amy Bentley,” Markland told them.

  “Does Amy know that you slept with Sunny Cargill?”

  “No, and I hope she never finds out. It should never have happened, but Sunny threatened my job! If I didn’t sleep with her, she would make sure that I got fired. She was a real bitch when she wanted to be,” Markland shook his head

  “Thank you for being so honest, Woodrow. Did you ever want to kill Sunny for what she put you through?”

  “Never. I just decided I would never put myself in position for it to ever happen again,” Markland told him. Moseby believed him.

  “That guy was a real trip,” Lucy French shook her head once that they were back in the unmarked Charger. Moseby had already fired the engine so cool air was already pouring through the vents.

  “He was, but I believe him. I think Sunny Cargill blackmailed him for sex and then moved on once she had what she wanted,” Moseby told her.

  “Yeah, I think so too. These people are fucking out there, Garrett.”

  “Yes, they are, Lucy. But that is why we do what we do. We speak for the dead because they can no longer speak for themselves,” Moseby said.

  “I know that,” Lucy agreed.

  “Are you sure? Because you have been fighting me a lot on this investigation.”

  “I have not!” Lucy glared at him.

  “Sure you have. You’ve been more focused on who tried to blow you up. Not who killed the two women.”

  “Okay, so you may be right,” Lucy said, raising her hands submissively.

  “I am right. I know you’re pissed about the bomb, but this asshole wants you pissed and not focusing on the murders. That’s why he set the bomb,” Moseby told her.

  “It’s working,” Lucy said.

  “Yeah, and this guy is winning because of it. I need you to focus on the case, Lucy. I need you to help me solve the murders.”

  “I know that, Garrett. I’ll try,” Lucy said.

  “That’s all I’m asking for. Carly Matthews only lives a few blocks over. Let’s try her place next.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Lucy said. Moseby nodded and pulled out into traffic. It was near noon and lunch hour traffic was bad. It took them about twenty minutes to reach Carly Matthews place. She lived in a small double apartment. The house had green siding and yellow trim around the windows and doors. Moseby parked out front and then he and Lucy got out of the car and headed up the broken sidewalk. The gate was broken and partially open. Moseby led the way through it.

  Lucy pushed the gate all the way open as she entered the yard, trailing along behind her partner. The yard was unkempt and getting on the long side. Moseby climbed the three steps to the porch and rapped his knuckles on the door. The house seemed awfully quiet. Lucy walked over to a window and peered inside. “There is nobody home,” she said.

  I kind of got that impression too. I’ll leave a card,” Moseby said, sticking one in between the screen door and the frame.

  “So who is next?” Lucy asked.

  “Jason Burch is about a mile from here,” Moseby told her as he looked at the address on his phone.

  “Then I guess we talk to him next,” Lucy said.

  “That’s my thought,” Moseby agreed.

  Jason Burch’s house was farther away from the city proper. It was kind of isolated and out of the way. There was a nice stretch of Everglades swampland behind it. The house appeared to be a one-story shotgun style world war two house. One of many that had been built all across Central Florida. The house was white with black trim. A one car garage was attached to the house. Moseby swung their unmarked car into the driveway and parked it.

  “He must not like having neighbors,” French noted.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Moseby agreed as they got out of the car and walked towards the front door.

  The sun was beating down on them both, soaking their shirts under their jackets with sweat. “What is your feeling on this guy?” Lucy asked.

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you after we meet him,” Moseby said as he rang the doorbell.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Garrett Moseby was the first one on the porch. He knocked on the screen door. Some of it was ripped away. The place seemed to be falling apart. He glanced over his shoulder at Lucy French who was making her way across the yard, her eyes taking everything about the place in. He could understand why. He wasn’t sure why anybody would choose to live in a place like this. Moseby stepped to the side and rapped hard on the door with his fist. He could hear faint music drifting out of the house from a partially opened window. Lucy walked up on the porch and stepped to the other side of the door, her right hand on the butt of her service weapon.

  Moseby rapped on the door again, harder this time.

  “Just a minute!” yelled a faint voice from inside. Moseby cut his eyes to French. So the guy was at home. That was good news. He hoped. A few seconds later, they could hear footsteps coming across the floor inside and the door swung open.

  “Can I help you?” the young man in his mid-twenties asked them. Jason Burch had curly brown hair, brown eyes, and the face of a Calvin Klein underwear model. He was wearing a gray tank top and a pair of nylon basketball shorts. He was wearing ankle socks and a pair of Starter sneakers.

  “Jason Burch?” Moseby asked.

  “I am. Who are you?” Burch looked back at them, uncertainty in his gaze.

  “Detectives Moseby and French, Tampa Police Department. We’d like to talk to
you about Sunny Cargill,” Moseby told him.

  “I heard she was murdered. Sure, come on in,” Burch said opening the door for them. Moseby stepped inside and French followed. Burch led them into the living room and took a seat in a recliner, leaving them the couch. Surprisingly, the interior of the house belied the outside. The inside was very well kept, the hardwood floors gleamed. The wallpaper was a bright yellow and the curtains were heavy and dark, keeping sunlight from getting inside.

  “Can I get you anything?” Burch asked them.

  “No thanks,” Moseby told him. “How well did you know Sunny Cargill?”

  “She was my boss, but I didn’t really socialize with her. I prefer basketball to running, so unless it was work related I pretty much stayed under her radar. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Sunny was hot, but she was only into other runners. If you didn’t run, you didn’t exist for her beyond the job,” Burch explained.

  “What about Richard Markland and Doug Carrington? Did Sunny notice them?” Lucy asked.

  “She was all over both of them like a dog in heat. They were runners. Doug was her favorite between the two, though. I heard her tell Meg Tanner, one of the other supervisors, that Doug was the best lay she ever had.”

  “Interesting,” Moseby frowned. “What did you think when you found out your boss was dead?”

  “I felt bad for her, but seriously I wondered what kind of person was going to replace her. Sunny could be a real bitch if she didn’t like you,” Burch sighed.

  “Was she a bitch to you?” Lucy asked.

  “Like I said, I stayed under her radar. I did my job and didn’t bother her.”

  “What can you tell us about the rest of your teammates? We haven’t talked to Tara Sweet or Carly Matthews yet,” Lucy said.

  “I know they have the next couple of days off. Oh yeah, they were supposed to meet Doug to go running last night. He was bragging about it in the break room yesterday. He was saying that he hoped to hit a double play by nailing them both,” Burch shrugged.

  “That is certainly interesting. Is Carrington usually that confident about women??”

  “Doug Carrington thinks that he is God’s gift to women. He often brags that he has never met a woman whose pants he couldn’t get into,” Burch shrugged.

  “Thank you, Mr. Burch. You’ve been a big help. If you think of anything else, feel free to give me a call,” Moseby said as he handed him one of his business cards.

  “Sure thing Detective. I hope you get whoever killed Sunny.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Moseby said as he stood. He shook hands with the man and then he and French headed for the door. Burch closed the front door behind them and Moseby could feel the man’s eyes on their back until they climbed into the car and started it and backed out into the street and drove off.

  “What do you think?” Lucy asked.

  “He was…interesting,” Moseby replied.

  “That is one word for it,” Lucy said. “I got the impression that he was batshit crazy,” Lucy said.

  “Why?”

  “First his description of Sunny Cargill. Burch is an Alpha Male. There is no way he wouldn’t be interested in a woman that looked as good as she did. And for him to claim that he stayed under her radar? He was fucking gorgeous. There is no way in hell that Sunny wouldn’t have noticed him, runner, or not,” Lucy shook her head.

  “So why do you think he lied?” Moseby asked.

  “I don’t know, but he was lying to us,” French replied.

  “I agree. But why?” Moseby glanced over at her.

  “I don’t know. I noticed that he gave Carrington and Markland up quick enough.”

  “Yes, he did. After we check Tara Sweet out, we need to take another look at Doug Carrington.”

  Tara Sweet lived the farthest out. She lived in an apartment complex in Fish Hawk, one of the better neighborhoods. Once again, there was nobody home.

  “Does it bother you that neither of the women are home?” Lucy asked.

  “It does. It bothers me a lot,” Moseby told her.

  “I think we need to pick up Doug Carrington,” Lucy said.

  “I do too, but not because I think he’s a killer. Carrington is hiding something.”

  “Then why?” Lucy asked him.

  “Because Doug Carrington is a liar. I want to know what exactly that he is lying about,” Moseby told her.

  “That sounds reasonable.”

  “I certainly thought so.”

  “What about Burch?”

  “I think we need to keep an eye on him. I don’t believe anything that the son of a bitch told us,” Moseby replied.

  “I’m glad you knew enough to be quiet while my visitors were here,” he told Carly as he walked back into the concrete room. Carly trembled, tears streaming down her cheeks. Streaks of dried blood made trails on her skin from where he had inflicted painful cuts on her earlier. Her eyes were puffy and swollen and she moaned against the silver duct tape that was stretched across her mouth. Carly closed her eyes tightly and tried to turn her head away from him as he knelt beside her and put his face close to hers.

  “Our time together is almost at an end, Dear Carly. I hate saying goodbye to you because you have been so entertaining. I hope Tara will be too,” he said softly as he stroked her greasy and matted hair. Carly tried to pull away but there was really nowhere for her to go. He reached over to the tray and lifted his favorite knife. The lights gleamed off the highly sharpened edge of the blade. He giggled as he laid the edge against her cheek.

  “Good night little princess!” he whispered in her ear, then the razor sharp edge sliced into her flesh, cutting her throat before she could even try to scream. Blood sprayed up in the air and filled her throat, choking her as she breathed her last. Giggling like an insane person, he stabbed her corpse over and over until the madness left him. He would dump her after dark. And then it would be time for him to start his fun with Tara who he had been keeping drugged since the first time he had raped Carly. He headed across the room to the small shower stall and cleaned the blood off of his own body under the streaming hot spray.

  It was nearly six o’clock in the evening as Moseby watched Douglas Carrington walk out of the door of TalkTech. Lucy French was standing near the door while Moseby watched from the car. They had decided that Carrington might be easier to approach if Lucy did it. So Moseby had given her the lead to make contact, while he was close enough to observe.

  He could hear Lucy call Carrington’s name and watched as the guy turned and walked over to talk to her. He couldn’t make out the words, but he knew pretty much what she was telling the man. His face went pale and that is when Moseby stepped out of the car and started towards them.

  Carrington was backing away and Lucy had her hand on the butt of her Glock as Moseby came up and grabbed Carrington from behind and slammed him into the wall. “Douglas Carrington, you are under arrest,” Moseby snarled in his ear as he twisted his arms up behind his back. Lucy stepped in and cuffed the man. A small crowd had gathered to watch the takedown, and Moseby made Carrington do a perp walk to the car in front of his co-workers. He stuffed Carrington into the back seat and belted him in. Lucy climbed into the passenger seat and Moseby dropped in behind the wheel. He had put his seat back as far as it would go to make it impossible for Carrington to bring his legs into play.

  Moseby fired the engine and guided the car out of the parking lot and headed for the station. “What the hell are you doing?” Carrington demanded from the back seat.

  “You lied to us Dougie. You didn’t mention that you had a date to go running with Tara and Carly last night. Both of them are missing,” Lucy said as she turned in her seat so she could watch the prisoner.

  “Oh shit, is that what this is about?” Carrington moaned.

  “You can tell us all about it when we get to the station,” Lucy told him.

  Some twenty minutes later they were at the station and had Carrington sequestered in an interrogation room. Moseby had
stopped to get a cup of coffee before heading back into the room. Captain Stanley caught him before he went back inside.

  “Do you think this is the guy?” Stanley asked.

  “He lied to us when we asked him about Sunny Cargill. And then we found out that he went running with Tara Sweet and Carly Matthews last night and both of them are missing today,” Moseby shrugged.

  “You checked?” Stanley asked.

  “Captain, do you even have to ask?”

  “I suppose not. But is he the guy?”

  “I won’t know until I question him. I want him to sweat for a bit first, though,” Moseby replied.

  “I get that. We need to solve these slasher killings and we need to do it damn quick. I got the Mayor breathing up my ass over this one. Bad publicity drives away tourist dollars and nothing brings more bad publicity than a serial killer,” Stanley told him,

  “I know that Cap. I’ll let you know what I find out,” Moseby said as he walked a few steps to the door and then entered the room. Lucy was already inside and was leaning against the opposite wall from the suspect. Moseby took the seat directly opposite from him and put his file folder on the table.

  Luke Stanley walked into the observation room on the other side of the one-way glass to observe the interrogation. He wanted to make sure that every protocol was followed in this case. He couldn’t afford to let the guy skate on some half-assed technicality.

  He watched as Moseby took a seat and opened the folder in front of him. Moseby took out a picture of Sunny Cargill from where she had been found on the trail and put it down where Carrington would have no choice but to look at it.

  “You knew that Sunny was a runner,” Moseby said. It was a statement more than a question.

  “You know that I already told you she was my boss,” Carrington said.

  “You did. Did you do this to her?” Moseby glared at him.

  “Hell no. It had been more than a week since Sunny and I had run together,” Carrington shook his head.

  “Tell me about Tara Sweet. She’s missing. You ran with her last night,” Moseby said.