“Thanks, Frank. I’ll make the calls.”
“Sin, don’t make me regre—”
Sin hung up before Frank could finish his sentence.
33
“Come in.”
“Sorry to bother you, Captain, but I have some information I thought you might be interested in.”
Rand pointed to a chair in front of his desk and Sergeant Monroe took a seat.
“What’s up, Bert?”
“I was at Scully’s Bar up in Surfside last night with my wife, and two of the local feds, Jackson and Luce, were sitting near us.”
“Yeah, so what?” Rand’s head stayed down. He was wading through a ton of paperwork.
“They were talking about the drug cartel, and—”
That got Rand’s attention. “You heard them say that? The drug cartel?”
“No, but I know they’re both working on the drug case.”
Rand waved his hand at Monroe, asking him to speed it up. “I’ve got stacks of bullshit to plow through,” he stabbed the files with his pen, “so stop beating around the bush and tell me what you came in here for.”
“They mentioned some place in Key Biscayne. Some old school that was left abandoned. They were talking about a raid on the place happening tomorrow tonight.” Monroe leaned forward in the chair. “I was thinking. Let’s say, for the sake of legality, that I received this information from one of my informants. We might be able to get a warrant and head down there tonight. If we crack this case, it would get you—us—off the bench and back in the game.”
Rand’s expression changed from stone-faced disinterest to teeth-baring joy. “Round up Clark and Monahan. I’ll call in some markers and get the warrant. And I’ll see what I can drum up on this school. We’ll meet back here at eleven p.m.”
“There are two schools in Key Biscayne that are not in use,” Rand said, pointing at an image he’d downloaded off the internet. “One is a small elementary school that the county closed in 2011 when they built the newer one. It’s in the process of being gutted and refurbished to become the National Bridge Tournament Center. Bordering that property is a much bigger school. A whole damn campus, in fact. It’s the old Water’s Edge Academy.”
“I remember that place,” Clark said. “Real ritzy and expensive. Everyone was surprised when it closed and nothing was ever built on the property. It’s fucking oceanfront.”
“Thanks for the history lesson,” Rand said. “The old elementary school is well lit, has workers crawling all over it, and sits right on Crandon Boulevard. It would be difficult for traffickers to move merchandise in and out of that location. This,” Rand once again pointed to the picture, “makes more sense. Water’s Edge Academy has been abandoned longer, has a lot of buildings on the property, and sits back from the main road. There’s a long, winding road that leads from Crandon to the school.” He looked at the men. “Gear up. This is where we’re headed.”
34
The following morning Sin met Jack, Evelyn, and Gonzales at the office. They were going over the new information she had found. She wanted confirmation on her ideas. She wanted others to see the very real possibility that the Painted Beauty Killer was somehow connected to the Midwest Mauler.
“There are similarities in the victims’ appearances,” Jack said, “but the MO’s are different.”
“This is what ties it all together for me,” Sin said handing out a sheet of paper to everyone.
“Not the damn poem again.”
“Shut up and listen, Jack,” Sin said. “Vincent Ash was a poetry professor and a huge fan of William Blake’s work called, Songs of Innocence. Part of that work is a poem called, The Divine Image.”
“The one our killer keeps quoting.”
“No,” Sin said. “Our killer is quoting a poem that was written in a later collection that’s known as, Songs of Experience.”
“I’ve already got a headache,” Jack said.
“Me, too,” Gonzales chimed in. “I hated this crap in school.”
Sin rolled her eyes. “Let me break it down for you two juvenile delinquents. The first work, The Divine Image, was part of Songs of Innocence. The collection was all about the good things of the world and how God, the Divine, gives Man mercy, peace, and love. The second, A Divine Image, was part of Songs of Experience. And this later collection was about the good being twisted into something evil.”
Gonzales scratched his head. “Like Adam and Eve?”
Evelyn, who had been quiet till now, cleared her throat.
Everyone turned toward her.
“Poetry can be very dry when you read it. It might help if I try to summarize it.”
Sin smiled, needing all the help she could get. “Please.”
“Blake’s first collection is all about compassion,” Evelyn explained, “but his later work is all about hatred. They’re polar opposites.”
Sin looked at her and smiled. “Thank you.”
She then turned her attention to Jack and Gonzales “So, why would our killer use lines from Blake’s poem?”
Jack scratched his head, “And why would Vincent Ash, a known serial killer, be fond of Blake’s work on compassion?”
Good point, Sin thought.
“Maybe our killer is familiar with the Midwest Mauler,” Gonzalez suggested. “Some of these nuts like to emulate serial killers who came before them.”
Sin tapped a dry erase marker on the table. “Maybe, but if that’s the case why paint the victims? Ash didn’t. Why all the artwork?”
“It could be someone who is familiar with both Vincent Ash and Miranda Stokler,” Jack reasoned. “She was the artist. So maybe the killer wants to use them both? Maybe he’s even someone who knew her when she was still Joanna Ash.”
That got Sin’s attention. “The Midwest Mauler case is public record, but who would have the most information about both people?”
“The family,” Gonzales said, “but Vincent’s only family seems to have been his wife, who’s dead.”
“We need to take a closer look at Miranda’s family,” Jack said.
“Exactly,” Sin agreed.
She went to leave and Jack grabbed her arm. “There’s that look again. Where you headed?”
“I need you and Gonzalez to bring the Stoklers here. I’m going to go draw the moth to the flame.”
35
Sin met with Tiffany’s
