Excerpt: The Perfect Pair

It’s not long now. The second act is about over and the orchestra is starting the curtain calls, such that they are in a theater in the round. I’m not inside, but I can hear the faint strains of music from here. I know the audience will begin walking out now, so I place myself to blend. The cast will come out later, and she’ll be one of the last stragglers. I know this, she’s been late every other time she’s finished the show, even during the rehearsals.
I’m focused on this task, and prepared for it. I know how it will go, every stage. She’s got what I want, and I’ll get it from her. She’s perfect, so much so it aches. Even her role affirms this. Even her song, that comical little piece she sings to the crowd’s uncontrolled laughter, fits my purpose.
The first of the audience has passed, and I start walking next to them, towards the parking area. I could have waited in the dark by her car, but I needed to know when she’d be out, I’m not fond of waiting. So I walk with the crowd as if to my car, and continue on, into the cast parking area. I crouch down as if to get into her car, then sneak around to the other side and into the wooded area. It’s dark here, which reminds me that she didn’t get the part for her brains. She should know dangerous people might be out there. Murderers and thieves and rapists…oh, my.
Well, I’m not one of them. I’m just a person with a goal, a need. And she can fill that need. So I wait, and I run through my plan one more time. I’m going to do this right. She’ll let me, I know she will. And if she doesn’t, I have the backup plan. Time passes, and I’m getting weary of waiting. The dried leaves under me crackle slightly in the autumn air, and I shiver with the chill of the night wind. The tree that blocks her from seeing me is large and wide, and I press my hand against it in silent thanks.
Oh, my…she’s approaching. She’s beautiful, and yet there’s no stirrings. No, never would be, and I’m aware of that. She’s approaching, and I realize…she’d never agree. She’s singing her song softly to herself, as if she weren’t bored with it already. “Tits and ass, and I’m still on unemployment…” and I know then, with great clarity, that she’s never going to be on unemployment again. She’s got what I need, and I mean to have it at any cost. So my hand slips down into my jacket, and the knife, cool to the touch, seems to warm on contact. I feel it vibrate as she goes to open the door to her car. The lot is mostly empty now, and the few flickering lights are dimming. This is my opportunity, so I leap to the task.

The sunlight glared unseasonably warm, and Casey Daniels, new-made Detective Seargent of the Saugus Police Force, blinked her eyes before pulling out her shades. While not the most stylish of sunglasses, they nonetheless fit over her thick spectacles, and actually managed to make her less the nerd than she tended to portray herself as. She wasn’t an overly athletic woman, but her skills as an investigator had helped her slowly rise through the ranks of the homicide division. She glanced over at the uniforms who were dusting the area for prints, photographing the corpse, and searching the dirt lot and surrounding woods of the SMT, or Saugus Musical Theater, for anything that might help explain why the beautiful young blonde had been so brutally disposed of.
It was one of the gorier crimes she’d seen, but she managed to hold the nausea at bay as she spread a little Vapo-Rub on her upper lip. She kneeled by the remains and began to inspect them.
There was a deep knife-wound in her side, as if the killer had aimed for her back but she’d turned at the last moment. It wasn’t a clean stab, nor was it particularly helpful to the murderer…she doubted it would be the cause of death. More likely, the cause of death was the sheer number of gashes on her, from the stabs around her pelvis to the slice across her neck. Her fingertips had been removed, so no fingernails were around to inspect. Even worse than that, though, was the missing left breast.
“Carver, come over here, and tell me what you think of this,” she said, turning her head slightly to the athletic uniform who was trying to pry open the trunk of the victim’s Ford. She nodded once at the chest area.
“Well, ma’am. I’d say that the perp’s not very experienced.” His face looked a bit green, but Daniels noticed, to her credit, that he was sticking. “Too many gashes in the area, and too many other cuts.”
“Good observation.” Daniels nodded, pleased that her suspicion was not a random thought. “What else?”
“He wasn’t angry, and I don’t think it’s about sex.” Carver seemed to be straining, trying to find what his superior was looking for. He smiled slightly when she gave him another approving nod.
“Right. Although, why not about sex? There’s stabs in the pelvis, and the breast is gone.” This part had baffled her, but she agreed. It wasn’t about sex, at least she didn’t believe so. Her pants were still on, after all. She grinned when Carver verified her observation that there was no apparent attempt to remove the victim’s pants, nor were there any other removed clothes.
“Also, Carver, notice the position he left her in. It would have been mighty uncomfortable for him to rape her in this position, either pre or post mortem. Not to mention there’s no knee marks in the ground at her feet…and there would be, even in dirt this packed in.”
Carver nodded, then returned to the car’s trunk while she signaled for the body to be shipped off to the morgue. After nodding to one of the other detectives on scene, she turned to face the large circular building. “Looks like a circus tent made of wood,” she thought to herself, then began to walk in its direction, following, in reverse, the victim’s last stroll. Her eyes were down on the ground, looking for anything, like footprints, that might stand out as unusual…like the high heel prints that seemed to dig into the dirt lot more deeply than others. She tracked those prints to the rear of the theater, and marked where they came from and to. The victim’s car. Daniels pulled out her Digital Voice Recorder, flicked it on, and spoke to it.
“Deep heels. What did the victim wear, what was she found in? How about in the show? Possibly not hers, she’d not leave this deep a mark.” On a whim, she knelt beside one of the marks, and stuck a pencil into it. “Fully sharp pencil is buried about a half an inch. Dirt packed solid, no other like prints.” She flicked the recorder off and entered the building. Squinting, she removed her sunglasses and glanced around. Posters for the season were framed behind plastic, vending stalls set around the circular theater, ready to sell wine, beer, sodas, and snacks. As it was morning, all these stations were closed down.
She noted the sign announcing the upcoming concert series…they’d booked Chita Rivera and had even managed to land Robin Williams for a weekend. For a small, out of the way professional theater, it seemed the SMT was doing well for itself.
Continuing past the doors into the actual theater part of the building, she turned to the stairs which led up to the offices. She rapped once upon the door, which opened within seconds, as if the occupant was expecting her. Which he probably was.
“Detective Daniels? Please…come in, sit down. Whatever I can do…” The man’s eyes were red-rimmed, but his mouth was pressed into a firm line. “It’s not just the bad publicity…that, we can overcome with good programming and a positive spin. I just…it’s just…”
“I know. Was she a regular performer here?” Casey sat on the arm of one of the chairs in the office, found it uncomfortable, then opted to lean against the wall by the window.
“Yes. Usually, she only got ensemble. This was her first big break…she’s my niece, you know. When she first started getting cast, there were mumbles about how she only cast because I’m the Manager of the theater, but she went to New York this time and got the big role…she was so excited about it, too.”
“I can imagine.” Daniels kept it short, letting him babble on for the moment.
“She’d sing all the time, and I never pulled strings for her. She was a lovely woman, maybe not the brightest, but she was so sweet…” Tears started to brim again, so Daniels cut him off.
“Who found her? And for the record, I’ll be taping this conversation. I find it easier than writing notes.”
“No problem,” he nodded. “As long as it helps you catch the bastard. Our Sheila…that is, the woman playing Shiela. She usually parked right by her but last night she’d been out for a publicity shot, so there was a limo set up for her for the night.”
“All right. And where is…” Daniels paused, picked up a playbill and flipped to the cast and crew section. “Ms. Threstin?”
“She’s in the dressing room, cleaning up Pam’s space…” Daniels’s eyes widened, and grabbed for her cell phone. A quick dial had her partner on the line.
“Chance, go to the dressing room and stop Ms. Threstin! She’s cleaning up the victim’s area.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” This was followed with a click, and Daniels turned her eyes angrily at the manager.
“Don’t you know that we might have found something there? This is a crime scene! Not just the car, but the whole theater!” Daniels took a breath, then continued, no calmer. “Is there anything else I should know? Someone cleaning up blood stains in the bathroom or anything?”
The frightened manager backed away a step. “N-no, I didn’t think. I’m sorry, I…what else do you need to know?”