Sketch of a Murder

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Lieutenant Michael Williams, head of the Special Crimes Team, stood in front of the cork-covered wall, wishing that government offices hadn't been mandated to keep their air conditioners turned on low. Sweat trickled down his collar, exponentially increasing his irritation. Snatching a balled up handkerchief from his hip pocket, he wiped the back of his neck and stuffed it away. A scan of the room had him shaking his head. Why, in the name of all that was sane, did he let Governor Marleton talk him into heading the Special Crimes Team? He should've just taken his retirement after that last ballyhoo with his captain. He gave those thoughts a hard shove and faced the room. With a solid clap of his hands, he drew everyone's attention. "Okay folks, let's get with it. Grab a chair."

The four men and one woman, who had been milling around the room, mostly avoiding each other, wandered over to the long, laminate-topped table set in the center of the large conference room, and settled on the wooden chairs. The linoleum tiles squeaked as they shifted the chairs to face the front.

He glanced up at the clock on the wall behind him and scowled. Slowater was late. No sense waiting. He'd begun speaking when the door swung open. Everyone twisted to watch the newcomer.

Sergeant Nita Slowater wasn't hard to look at with her raven-black, shoulder-length hair swinging as she rushed in with a laptop case slung over her right shoulder, and a stainless steel travel mug in her left hand. Her light gray suit jacket hung open, periodically exposing a shoulder holster. Her dark gray cotton blouse nicely accented the jacket and the light gray slacks that had a knife-sharp crease. The cuffs of the slacks touched the tops of highly polished, black tie-ups. Damn woman made him feel like a slob.

Well-built woman with probably not an ounce of fat on her, he guessed her height to be around five-ten, but her energy made it seem like she took up more space. She set the coffee mug on the table in front of the end chair closest to the cork-covered wall. Lowering the laptop case gently to the floor, she said, "Sorry I'm late..."

He crossed thick arms over his burly chest. From the first day he'd met her at the governor's office, he'd known she was going to be a pain in the ass. His deep voice rumbled, "This isn't high school where you can bust into class late and no one cares."

Not yet seated, she swung around to face him. Hazel eyes set in a light brown face stared back at him. She clasped her hands behind her and spread her feet, back straight, chin elevated. "Sergeant Nita Slowater reporting, Sir!" she snapped. Eyes never wavering from his face, she said, "Shit happens, Sir! Sorry for being late, Sir!" Somehow she made sir sound like an insult.

He dropped his arms to prop his hands on his hips. "Listen, Sergeant, I don't know, and I don't care, why you were assigned to this unit, but everyone here will adhere to certain standards. One of those standards is being on time every morning for the 0800 hours briefing. Do I make myself clear?"

Eyes narrowed, she held his gaze instead of dropping hers. After several seconds, she inhaled deeply and slowly released it-exactly like his daughter, Amber, used to do when she was really pissed, but trying not to show it.

In a neutral tone, she said, "Yes, Sir. Very clear, Sir."

He kept his gaze locked on hers for a bit longer before he gave a downward jerk of his chin then refocused his attention on the room in general. "Listen up folks, our killer has racked up a retired Congressman, a wealthy contributor to the governor's campaign, and a doctor-turned-mayoral-candidate." His eyes roamed over the gathered faces.

In addition to Slowater, I have two detectives, two uniforms, and a computer geek. Great! Three police departments haven't been able to catch this maniac. So how do we stop this killer? Pray he trips over his shoelaces and breaks his damn neck?

He let his focus go general again and continued talking. "Detective Albert, I want you and Detective O'Hara to talk to the ME, Dr. Hutchinson, and then review all of the evidence found by the crime scene techs at this latest murder. Officer Rodriquez and Officer Mulder, grab the hard-copy files and start writing down every little thing that is similar in all three cases. You can start with the obvious things like all three men were gagged with a red bandana. Get busy."

He strode across the room toward the door. "Sergeant, my office. Mr. Arneau, my office." He heard their shoes quietly slapping the tiled floor of the hallway behind him. The office they stepped into was situated at the front of a ten-story, downtown building and boasted a large window with a view of Third Avenue.

He stepped to the far side of the dented, gray metal desk and sat on an old desk chair with a requisite strip of duct tape on the split seat. It protested his weight with a loud squeak. A manila folder lay on a corner of the desk. He pulled it close and flipped it open. "Mr. Arneau, I understand you are more than just a computer maintenance man. You're some kind of computer expert?"

Hands shoved in the rear pockets of his jeans, the twenty-two year old nodded. Long, ash-blond hair flopped in his face. "Yep, that's me."

The lieutenant slapped the folder closed and lifted his eyes. "Let's get one thing clear, Mister Arneau. This is a police unit. Proper protocol will be observed."

Ronald Arneau tilted his head, his blue eyes slightly amused. "I'm not a cop. I'm a civilian. I have no desire to be a cop. These past two days I have updated all of your laptops. I have shown all of your people how to access the online Team Room and how to add files to it. I can write any program you need. I can locate and search databases. I can even hack into secure databases, as long as I don't wind up in trouble because of it. But, I am not a cop."

Lieutenant Williams leaned back and the chair squealed. He ignored the noise, linked his hands behind his head and studied the youngest member of SCaT. "Why were you stuck in this godforsaken unit, Mr. Arneau?"

The young man gave a cocky grin, showing off straight, white teeth. "I hacked the governor's computer because she bragged that her firewall couldn't be breached. It was here or jail."

The chair thunked forward. Forearms braced on the edge of the desk, he leaned toward Arneau and in a measured voice, said, "That is still the choice. If you want to remain here, and free, you will follow proper protocols. You will address people politely, by title and name. Do I make myself clear?"

The young man's jaw clenched so tight the muscle in his cheek bulged. When he spoke it sounded as if his teeth were still clamped together. "Yes, Sir."

"Good. I want you to take the information that Officers Rodriquez and Mulder find, and the information that Detectives Albert and O'Hara discover, and write a program to link all the similarities and to highlight all the differences in these three cases. Maybe we can find the pattern that ties all of these men together."

"Yes, Sir. Anything else, Sir?" Arneau's nostrils flared as he glared at his superior.

Lieutenant Williams gave a half-shake of his head. "No, that'll do for now. Report on your progress at tomorrow's briefing, unless you find something interesting."

Sergeant Slowater kept her eyes on the young man as he spun on his heel and stomped out the door, shutting it hard enough to be barely on this side of slamming it. She turned toward the lieutenant, lips pursed. "Seems you have quite the talent for pissing off your team members, Lieutenant."

He shrugged and waved a hand at the scratched-up wooden chair next to his desk. "Have a seat. Governor Marleton designated you as the second-in-command of our merry little band, so there are things we need to talk about, and we have a case to discuss. Unless you're fond of the idea of being shit-canned from the force."