male’s got a bullet hole in the center of his chest. No exit wound. No signs of a struggle. Definitely a secondary crime scene. This scene was staged.”
“What about the female?” Mooney asked.
“She would have looked terrific in her white dress, hair done up, but for the fact that she had been strangled, most likely with bare hands.”
Mooney deliberately set his green-and-white paper cup on the small tabletop. He looked away and then back at Alves. “It couldn’t be. After all these years.”
“I remember the case from when I was a patrolman. And I remember what you told me about your old investigation. Everything fits.”
Mooney shook his head. “Has to be a copycat.”
“I don’t think so.” Alves paused, letting the facts sink in. “It’s him, Sarge. The Prom Night Killer.”
“Another stupid nickname the media came up with. They don’t know shit about the case. Yet they have no problem giving the killer a moniker that leads to a cult following.”
“I need your help with this one. I’ve got Evidence Management pulling everything from the old cases. I need you to bring me up to speed with the initial investigation.”
Alves waited as Mooney stared out the window at the morning rush on Adams Street, the cars speeding, trying to beat the next light, dodging jaywalking pedestrians. This was where Mooney grew up and where he was going to die.
“I didn’t tell you everything about the case, Angel.”
“You told me all the major details. And that you never caught him. The killings stopped. You assumed he was dead, or in prison. Maybe that he left the area.”
“He left another clue,” Mooney lowered his voice. “Only a few of us close to the investigation knew about it. We can’t be sure it’s really him until we confirm one thing. When is the autopsy?”
“Ten o’clock. But, Sarge, you can’t…”
Mooney stood up and put on his jacket. “You drive.”
CHAPTER 9
C onnie closed the door to the interview room. This was his last chance to get information out of Tracy Ward. Connie had already threatened to take him upstairs to the judge, but following through on the threat would only make things worse. The judge would appoint an attorney to represent him, and any good defense attorney would get him out of testifying by suggesting to the judge that he had a legitimate Fifth Amendment right not to testify. If the attorney was creative, he could probably find that Ward had committed some crime which led to him being shot. The court would then hold a private
in camera
hearing with the witness and his attorney, off the record, outside Connie’s presence, and would probably find that Ward did have a legitimate Fifth. And that would be the end of it.
Connie surveyed the room. He had to play this right. Greene was standing by an open window smoking a cigarette, his attempt at hiding his nasty habit in the smoke-free building. Of course the smoke went everywhere except out the window. The cigarette smoke usually bothered Connie, but not today. Ward sat at the small table in the middle of the room staring at Greene, inhaling as much smoke as he could.
“C’mon, man, just a couple of tokes?” he asked the detective. “This is what they call cruel and unusual punishment, ain’t it? Smoking in front of a man who’s been locked up with no privileges.”
Greene smiled and blew some smoke in his direction.
“Asshole.”
Connie sat in the chair across from Ward. “Tracy, you want a smoke?”
“What the fuck you think, Mr. DA? Yeah, I want a smoke. And don’t call me Tracy. I prefer T, or Mr. Ward from you.”
“T, you know it’s against the rules for us to let a prisoner smoke. You’re technically in the custody of the sheriff’s department even though they passed you off to the detective here. The sheriff’s department doesn’t like it when we violate their rules. But maybe we can make an exception for you. You promise not to tell anyone if we hook you up?”
“No problem. I