The Coffin Maker

Chapter 22

Wu took leave of the Crowleys. She was uncomfortable with the turn of events. One of the country's top judges had told her that the case was weak. She knew it was impossible to proceed with charges if the evidence was predominantly circumstantial. She wondered what made the case so puzzling. Ailsa Craig was onto something; the young woman showed creative investigative work and was on the brink of solving the case when she disappeared. Wu sent a text message to Blackwood and asked if he would meet her for lunch.

Blackwood entered the Starbucks on South 6th Street in the City Center. Li Li Wu sat at a table by the window with a Perrier and a veggie and brown rice salad bowl. Blackwood sat opposite and looked at the barbequed beef brisket on sour dough bread that she had ordered for him. He thanked her for waiting.

"James, you and I have been in this business a long time," said Li Li. "Edmond Crowley believes the evidence against Velásquez won't stand up in court. I understand why you want me to go the drug route, two lives in the balance, time running out etcetera ...I get it, but my intuition says that Emiliano Velásquez might be telling the truth. James, there's something about his demeanor that doesn't fit a serial." She raised her palm to quell Blackwood's intended interruption. "Before you jump in with your Jekyll and Hyde theories, let me say I do not think he is our killer."

"So you won't use drugs?"

"No."

Blackwood recalled when they lived together and how frustrated he could become over her obstinacy. "You'll let them die?"

"Give me a couple more days, James."

"Then let's check out the thread concerning the dog hair," begged Blackwood. "It is clear from her flowcharts that Ailsa considered the canine hair a priority clue. When you spoke with Mrs. Velásquez, she said that a number of people had looked after her dog when she and her husband visited relatives. I want to establish the dates when these friends or acquaintances cared for the Velásquez's Brussels Griffon and compare those dates to the girls' disappearances. If you think he's not our man, I've a notion that the real offender is someone close to Emiliano Velásquez."

Wu was silent, deep in thought.

"What about the press conference?" asked Blackwood. "The media is expecting you to lay charges and identify the suspect."

"Petersen and I are under a lot of pressure from our superiors and the mayor to catch this perp. Both Petersen and I thought we had him," said Wu. Her phone rang and she peered down at it. "Speak of the devil, it's Petersen calling," she said. "I'm going to take it."

Blackwood watched Li Li Wu's facial expression while she talked to the Sheriff. She furrowed her brow and splayed an eyebrow in Blackwood's direction. "Okay Sheriff, we will meet you there," she said and ended the call.

"What is it, Lily?" asked Blackwood, sensing the unease. He knew from the look on her face that something was up.

"Another coffin," said Wu. "Two teenagers found it last night at a townhouse project under construction. They had been drinking, got scared and did not tell their parents until today. Wrap your sandwich in the napkin," she said and hit the speed dial on her cell to summon the SUV.

***

Wu and Blackwood ducked under the police tape that stretched across a cul-de-sac at Forest Edge Town Homes. A plethora of police officers, police photographers, and a forensic team milled about in front of one of the partially constructed units. Two paramedics waited beside an emergency measures vehicle. A growing crowd of onlookers assembled on the other side of the yellow tape. Blackwood approached the coffin. It looked larger and heavier than the previous rudimentary ones that contained the remains of Amber Kalita and Morgan McMahon. It lay on bare ground beside a pile of rolled sod at the newly poured curb.

"He is perfecting his craft, Lily," said Blackwood.

They each understood and feared the possibilities, so they did not talk about it. Petersen ordered the erection of a blind to block the view of the onlookers. He sent in three members of the forensic team armed with a cordless drill.

Petersen greeted Wu and Blackwood. "The Craig and Pacocha families have been notified," he said. "They are waiting to hear."

No one had to describe to Blackwood the anguish experienced by the families, the emptiness, and unreal feelings. He had seen it before. He was uncertain of his reaction if the opening of the coffin revealed the body of Ailsa Craig. The human brain is perplexing, he thought. Will I breathe a macabre sigh of relief if the box-like sarcophagus instead contains the remains of Riley Pacocha, he wondered. Wu recognized his apprehension and slid her arm under his elbow as the team removed the first screws and dropped them into a plastic bag. When they had removed all the fasteners, they surrounded the coffin, carried away the lid and set it down on a woven plastic tarpaulin. Sheriff Petersen stepped up to the edge and peered inside. He motioned for Wu and Blackwood to join him.

Blackwood gazed into the wooden box and saw two pair of shoes, a backpack and three cinder blocks. "Roughly the weight of one of our young women," said Blackwood. "What do you make of it?"

I recognize the casuals as Ailsa's," said Wu. "I presume the trainers and the backpack will prove to be Riley's. It's clear he is sending us a message that our man in custody is not the Coffin Maker. He is insulted that we believe there could be anyone else as clever as him, so he taunts us."

"Look at this, Lily." Blackwood pointed at an inside corner of the coffin. "There's a stain as though he spilled something on the raw wood. He could have easily sanded it away. He must have been in a hurry because he applied the finishing varnish right over top. Can you get the lab boys to analyze that stain?"

"I'll bet he was hurrying to drop this coffin before we publicly announced the name of the suspect," said Wu. "Typically, these killers hate to share the limelight. He is probably wallowing in the fact that the media has dubbed him 'The Coffin Maker'. This is his way of making certain no one else gets the credit."

"And make us out to be fools," added Petersen. "I'm going to take heat at the next press conference."

"There is a bright side," said Wu. "We can be reasonably sure that Ailsa and Riley are alive."

"Lily, it's time for me to follow up on my theory that our killer is obsessed with creating coffins. He is proud of them; they are his trademark. As he plies his craft, each is of higher quality than the last. However, these predators can be fickle and drop their M.O.* like a hot potato. Some are satisfied to bathe in their cunning, not strike again for years, maybe ever. If we do not find Ailsa and Riley soon, we may never find them. I need you to requisition your helicopter to fly me to that monastery in Iowa that I mentioned. I want to talk with the monks who make coffins. It might help me determine what it is about coffins that so inspire our serial."

*Modus operandi