Chapter 17 – Aster
ASTER
“You’re benching me?” she pouts, and I take the sides of my suit jacket and pull them closed around her so she doesn’t catch a chill, then tug her to me.
“I’m sorry, but we can’t have two quarterbacks heading in for this one.”
“And what makes you the quarterback?” she scoffs with a sexy little grimace. I point to the press badge clipped to my shirt, and she rolls her eyes. “Fine, I will stay put.”
“Thank you.” I force myself to let go and continue towards the police and fellow reporters surrounding the area.
A camera swings from my neck, and I still it with my hand while nearing the black-and-yellow striped DO NOT CROSS caution tape.
Remaining behind it, I zero in on a piece of red graffiti reading Thief, which was above the shoulder of the woman’s corpse in the picture.
Although just like every other one of the Kodak Killer’s victims, the body is gone.
Police scour the area, collecting what they believe is evidence off the ground. I’ve seen enough of Kodak’s crime scenes to know they never leave anything behind. Not unless it’s on purpose to throw off the scent.
Taking the lens cover off my camera, I aim towards the “scene of the crime.” While I am well aware this murder did not happen here, I must do everything exactly as I usually would.
Why the killer took the effort to relocate the body, arrange the shot, and then move the body again is beyond me.
Have they been doing that the entire time?
Given the graffiti tag, I am curious about exactly how involved she was in Vetrel’s business. Did she double-cross him and he did this to silence her? Was that what they were whispering about tonight?
She said, “He knows,” and Vetrel did not look pleased by that. Who was she referring to?
A familiar woman strolls by, and I call out, “Officer Davis.”
She turns to me, and a smile spreads across her face. “Mr. Blake.”
“Can you give me anything?”
She glances at the scene, then to me, and lowers her voice to a hush. “Victim’s name is Karolyn Heinzel. The scene hasn’t given us much else to go off.” Jeez, I know more than that.
“Cause of death?” I ask, knowing she’ll have no answer.
“Hard to tell from a photo,” she says, cocking a brow.
“Blood around the location?”
“Not a single drop.” The look in her eyes tells me she’s as suspicious of that as she should be.
Many of the crime scenes, while lacking a corpse, had plenty of bodily fluids left behind.
Hell, one time they even left a few organs.
The heart and brain specifically, wrapped with a purple satin bow. That was an interesting touch.
“Can you get me one minute?” I ask Officer Davis.
“You’ll have to be quick, and don’t touch anything.”
“I can do that.”
She lifts the yellow tape and I dip under, following her to the scene.
One thing I learned early in my career as a crime journalist, you want the inside scoop?
Befriend the people who are actually legally allowed to be researching the cases.
The amount of information I’ve gotten from loose-lipped detectives because of knowing their taste in music or food should be studied.
If only I could figure out how to get Lily’s dickhead brother on my side, I’d have a waterfall of resources.
And given my other line of work… it’s never a bad thing to have connections.
Taking a quick glance, I find Lily’s retreated into the shadows, but she’s still here. And that thought alone brings me more relief than it should.
“Blake.” Another officer nods as I near.
“Sampson.” I click on the mini flashlight attached to my keys and direct it towards the pavement. As expected, there’s seemingly no evidence. A crumpled napkin catches my eyes. Crouching to read it, I notice an inscription on it. Blue Heart Charity Benefit.
“See something?” Officer Davis asks.
A knot forms in my stomach as I wonder how much I should share.
Is Kodak trying to plant fake evidence to misdirect?
How would I even explain why this evidence is fake?
I could mention I saw the woman at the Westerfords’ tonight, but the entire point of running was to not become the prime suspect in a murder investigation.
“Blake?” Officer Davis repeats. “You got something?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Nothing.” Standing, I click off the flashlight, still no closer to figuring this out than I was before.
If there’s one thing I can commend the Kodak Killer on, they, too, know how to cover their tracks.
No body, no crime.