She's Not There (16 page)

When Maggie’s phone rang Saturday morning, she rolled over. But she’d awakened enough to remember the events of the night before. She and David had words on the way home last night—they weren’t in agreement on withholding the group’s activities from the Waukesha detectives. David, willing to stick his neck out because of the abuse in his family history, insisted on giving the group their twenty-four hours, unlike Maggie, who regretted giving them
any
time.

When the phone stopped ringing, then immediately repeated its wailing, Maggie picked up. It was her boss, and she could tell by his raised voice, he wasn’t happy.

“I hear you were in on that murder in Waukesha last night.”

Already a reprimand?
“I can explain that.”

“Forget that! You know a Teal Peacock? One of those ‘guests’ staying at the Schindler place?”

“Not well, but yes, I know her.”

“Thought you might,” he said sarcastically. “A neighbor of Schindler’s gave Waukesha the license number of a car with a guy in it that happened to be parked across from the place about the same time this woman bought it. Turns out he’s some barkeep from West Allis, Eddie Wysecki. He told them the reason he was there is he suspects his girlfriend—this Peacock woman—of cheating on him and was keeping tabs on her. Waukesha hasn’t been able to get in touch with her to confirm his story. Anyway, I know this is your day off but they’re shorthanded, so I’m sending you over there for the day. After you get in touch with Peacock.”

“You want me to work Waukesha?” It was unheard of—they never crossed boundaries. She decided not to question it further since at least he wasn’t reaming her out about being at Schindler’s the night before.

“They’re in a bind because two detectives were in an accident yesterday, and are still in the hospital. Find this Peacock broad and get over there.”

Maggie told him she would report to Waukesha right away and would call David too if he wanted. He wanted.

She knew exactly why TJ’s cell phone was off but had no clue about a boyfriend from West Allis. Lisa had told her TJ was seeing an MPD detective, but that didn’t mean there weren’t a few wannabes hanging around.

She called David, and told him she’d pick him up on her way to Waukesha, then tried Jeff’s phone as she pulled on her clothes. “Jeff, is TJ with you? Her phone’s not on.”

“Yeah, she’s right here. You caught us between meetings; we’re at Dunkin Doughnuts having coffee.” She heard him say, “Maggie,” followed by the sound of the phone changing hands.

TJ asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Waukesha got a report of a suspicious car with a man sitting it, parked across the street from Eric’s last night and Thursday night. The guy’s name is Eddie Wysecki; he owns a bar in West Allis. They talked to him this morning and he claims he’s been seeing you. Says he was worried you were cheating on him, so he was trying to find out what you were doing. Do you know him?”

“Shit, no, I never heard of the asshole. Never been in a bar in West Allis—that place is a shithole.”

“That’s what I thought—about Wysecki, not West Allis. Damn. He had to know his story wouldn’t check out, so he must have wanted to stall us. He’s probably in the wind by now.”

“Well, for Christ’s sake, why did they leave the guy alone?”

“I guess because they really didn’t have anything on him. And remember what day this is?”

“Well, it ain’t my fuckin’ birthday!” TJ’s language grew increasingly colorful as her anger escalated.

Maggie was in too big a hurry to pacify TJ. “David and I are assigned to the investigation. For today, anyway, because it’s the first weekend of deer hunting season. You must remember what that was like when you were a cop.”

“Yeah right. Ten long days of cluster-fuck.”

TJ closed the phone and handed it back to Jeff. He’d been admiring the way her kelly-green sweater hugged her body—and how her amazing blue-violet eyes flashed when she was angry. She’d been so good to him last night. It was hard to meld the woman who’d held him until he fell asleep with this person next to him slinging smut. “You eat with that mouth?”

She gave him a dark look and ordered two more doughnuts.

Just starting to break a sweat, he fought to keep from dropping the seventy-five pound weight he was pressing when he heard the announcement on the morning news. The woman in the woods—she wasn’t Lisa Rayburn. He’d fucked up. Who the hell was Danielle Ventura and what was she doing in the woods?

He hated it when he failed to accomplish something he’d set out to do, but he dared not act again so soon. Schindler’s house would be as secure as Fort Knox now. It would be impossible to get to Rayburn. If he was lucky, she and her band of followers would figure out she was the real target and back the hell off.

The scene in the woods had stoked his urge to resume his hobby. He needed an outlet, but it couldn’t be Rayburn.

He’d have to choose carefully.

Maggie and David met Zabel and Feinstein at the Waukesha station where the four of them went over the details of the case while they drank charred, police-station coffee out of Styrofoam cups and waited for the search warrants on Wysecki’s bar and apartment. Wysecki was still nowhere to be found.

When the warrants came in, the other officers asked which one they wanted. Surprised at being given a choice, Maggie and David ended up at Wysecki’s bar.

The bar, located off of Greenfield Avenue near the state fairgrounds, was in a blue-collar neighborhood of aging, two-family duplexes and had taverns on nearly every corner. Two uniforms from West Allis stood sentry, informing them that Wysecki hadn’t shown.

Wysecki’s bartender pulled up a moment later. A tall, stoop-shouldered man in his seventies, he hurried to the door and held it open for them.

The place smelled overwhelmingly of stale beer, but the floors and the surface of the bar were spotless. A typical, Milwaukee corner tavern, it had a long mahogany bar flanking the entire right side of the room, a few booths and tables on the other side, and a lone pool table and jukebox in the back. An ancient manual cash register behind the bar stood open and empty. The bartender explained that he’d taken the receipts the night before and dropped them in the night deposit after closing.

In the back of the building was a tiny, unisex bathroom across a short hallway from a combination office and storeroom. The office was a mess, the desk piled high with papers, receipts, advertisements, mail, old coffee cups, and an overflowing ashtray. The rest of the room was piled to the ceiling with cases of beer, soda, and kegs. On the wall behind the desk, the ubiquitous girlie-calendar.

A door at the back of the room, nearly hidden by a stack of old signs, opened to a cellar reeking of mildew. David called the bartender in and asked what they used the cellar for.

“Not much. The vendors don’t like hauling deliveries downstairs for a small account. Just a buncha’ old junk down there.”

After moving the signs aside, Maggie and David made their way down sagging wooden steps lit by a single light bulb hanging suspended from the cobwebbed ceiling.

Maggie wrinkled her nose at the musty odor. “Probably hasn’t been used in years. Should I go to the car for flashlights?”

“No, I think there’s another light. Let’s see if it works.” David turned on a hanging bulb in the middle of the room. The bartender was right—the place was filled with junk. Mostly old bar stools, their stuffing oozing out like hernias. And enough beer signs to be a collector’s dream except for the rust and mold marring their surfaces.

Maggie hated old basements; they were full of disgusting things like spiders and rats. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No, we’d better go through everything. I’ll finish here if you’d rather wait upstairs.” He poked through a stack of old cardboard boxes filled with ancient, yellowing papers from the business.

“Man, it’s stuffy down here,” complained Maggie. She couldn’t wait to get out of the cave-like cellar. “David, stop a minute. Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

“Your nose must be plugged. I’m getting a whiff of a really nasty odor. Something died and it smells like it’s still here.”

David walked to the back of the room. “Yeah, I’m getting it now.” He walked closer to an area behind the furnace and pushed aside a stack of boxes. “See this metal door in the wall? It’s for an old coal chute. Let me see if I can get it open.” He tugged on the metal handle, stumbling when it opened easily in his hand.

The odor wafting from the dark interior was undeniably that of death. Human or animal? That remained to be determined since there wasn’t enough light to see inside the opening. Maggie’s face scrunched up in revulsion as the smell diffused toward them through the opened door. The blackness beyond the opening was absolute, the odor palpable.

“I’ll go up for the flashlights and make sure the bartender stays put,” Maggie offered.

“All right. Bring the Vick’s too. Have those patrolmen find out if there’s anyone from the Medical Examiner’s office who hasn’t gone deer-hunting.”

When Lisa and Jeff came back Saturday, there was still a patrol car parked at the curb, and the security guard’s car sat next to the garage. Quickly deemed ‘robo-cop’ by TJ, the guard circled the grounds and house at regular intervals, effectively protecting the residents from the media.

TJ arrived next, her arms full of Chinese takeout. The rich, spicy odor of ginger and soy filled the room as they busied themselves getting out napkins and plates. The preparations were interrupted when Lisa got a call from Maggie. She put the phone on speaker.

Maggie told them about the suspect, Eddie Wysecki. “We haven’t found him yet, but he may be your killer. We searched his bar and found an old coal chute in the cellar. There were bodies of three women inside it. This should be a field day for the media and take you folks out of the spotlight.”

“Do you think they’ll find more bodies?” Lisa asked.

“They’re still looking. If he’s your killer, he’ll have more bodies stashed somewhere else. Three wouldn’t account for the stats on missing women.”

Lisa, disappointed, rubbed the back of her neck. “No, they wouldn’t.” She’d been hoping with this discovery, it would all be over
. But a second killer?

“Do you know who any of them are?” Jeff asked.

“No. And identification could take some time.”

TJ asked, “Do they know if he’s the one who killed Danielle?”

“His car was seen in the area two nights running. Everything points to him, but we don’t have a motive.”

After they ended the call, TJ said, “We’re off the hook. Won’t matter if this Wysecki isn’t our guy. The cops will put it all on him whether they find more bodies or not.”

The security guard sat quietly in the back seat as Jeff drove to a late-night appointment, an extra safeguard insisted on by Lisa since there was still a squad stationed in front of the house. The address, on a street southwest of downtown Milwaukee, was in a neighborhood past its prime—if it ever had one. Now it was mostly Hispanic and transient, the houses shabby and ill-kept, a far cry from its beginnings as an oasis for Polish immigrants. Known to be a high crime area, the guard asked why the need to go there so late.

“We gotta go when we gotta go,” said TJ, offering no explanation. “Hope this dude shows.”

Jeff asked, “What’s his name?”

TJ turned on the reading light to get a look at the note Lisa had given her. “The guy is a Raoul Lopez. This says he’s a friend of the missing woman’s brother and is the only person Lisa could reach. Note says don’t expect much of this one.” She turned off the light. “Great. A wild goose chase in a crappy neighborhood. Way to ruin a Saturday night.”

Because of the late interview, TJ had been forced to tell Richard she already had plans with her sister. She hadn’t told him just what those plans were, but promised to meet him the next day. He hadn’t sounded upset with her, but she could tell he was getting suspicious.

At their destination, a dark street lined with aged, two-family homes, TJ and Jeff walked up to a worn out duplex, its siding painted a hideously brilliant shade of blue. They had to walk carefully to avoid the detritus scattered about: broken toys, discarded bottles and cans, fast food wrappers and bags. There were no lights on anywhere in the lower flat as they walked around the side of the house to the entrance of the upper where they’d seen a faint light coming from the front window.

There was no operable lighting on the stairs leading to the upper flat, their only light the small flashlight TJ carried. At the top of the stairs, TJ knocked on the door. No one answered. They hadn’t seen Raoul enter so he might already be inside. She spoke the man’s name loudly, knocked again, and tried the door. It wasn’t locked.

“Maybe we’d better get the guard,” said Jeff before TJ could open the door any further.

“Nah, it’s ok, nobody’s here.”  But she handed him the flashlight and pulled out her gun as she walked through the door. “Or maybe not,” she whispered.

A dim light from a TV broke the darkness as the sound of a laugh track came from a small living room to the right of the kitchen where TJ and Jeff stood next to a yellow, Formica-topped table.

TJ called, “Hello, anyone home? We’re here to meet Raoul.”

No answer. They edged carefully into the living room. Still holding the gun, TJ reached over and turned on a lamp perched on a packing carton next to a ratty sofa. In its dim light they saw a small child, maybe four or five years old, curled up on the sofa, knees bent up to the chin, staring at them with fearful, dark eyes. TJ couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl. The kid wore blue jeans and an oversized sweatshirt; its dark hair covered most of his or her face.

Jeff squatted down until he was on eye level with the child. “What’s your name?”

The child didn’t answer, just stared up at them through dark, stringy hair, something gripped tightly under its arm, as if trying to keep it hidden from them.

“Can I see what you have?” Jeff asked softly. Clutching it with both hands, the child reluctantly pulled out a baby doll wearing a tattered pink dress.

He sat down next to her. “She’s real pretty. What’s her name?” The girl hugged the doll to her chest, silent.

TJ left the room to make sure the child was the only occupant of the apartment. The kitchen’s cupboards were empty and the refrigerator held a few cans of beer. The only edible thing TJ found was a package of elbow macaroni. An open garbage can was overflowing and the table in the middle of the room sat under a layer of grime and fast food wrappers. A look in the two small bedrooms revealed more squalor: the beds unmade, sheets gray and unwashed. No one else was in the apartment. Some moron had left the kid alone in this cesspool.

TJ walked back to the sofa where Jeff was offering the girl a granola bar. The child reached for the bar slowly, her eyes never leaving Jeff. She looked as if she feared he might snatch it away from her.

Jeff looked up at TJ while the girl ripped open the pitiful offering like it was a four-course meal. “We have to get her out of here. Someone left this poor kid alone with no food and the door unlocked, for God’s sake!” His face was stiff with anger.

“Seen worse in my time.”

“Call Lisa. She’ll know what to do about her.”

TJ sighed, her sympathy for the girl conflicting with her annoyance at having yet another distraction. “Go out and tell the guard what’s going on. Don’t want to have a problem if Raoul shows up. The bastard.” She sat next to the girl, wondering what to do next. She knew they couldn’t call Lisa. Lisa’s answer would have to follow procedure. And at midnight on a weekend before a holiday, TJ knew what would happen to the kid if they had to do things by the book.

Jeff came back in with Robo, aka Chad, in tow and asked, “What did Lisa say?”

TJ diverted the question. “Tell you about it later. We gotta get her out before Raoul shines around.”

The girl still wasn’t talking but had eaten the granola bar in record time. Her big eyes were on Jeff, silently asking for more food. He told her they had to leave and they would like it if she would come with them. He promised they would get her something to eat, offering her his hand. The girl stayed put, burrowing further into the sofa.

TJ bent down to the girl’s level and whispered in her ear. Her eyes widened. She followed TJ, hand-in-hand, out to the car. Chad got behind the wheel. “I think I saw some activity down the block. We need to put some distance between us and this place.”

TJ and Jeff got in the back with the girl. The car moved quickly from the curb.

TJ leaned over to Chad, “Take us to 27th and National.”

On the corner of 27th was a brightly lit MacDonald’s. TJ saw Jeff grin as he figured out what TJ had whispered in the kid’s ear.

“Pull in the drive-through,” said TJ. “I’m cravin’ a Big Mac.”

They ordered food—Big Macs and sodas for the adults, and a cheeseburger, French fries and chocolate shake for the girl. TJ hoped the kid wouldn’t puke after eating all that greasy food. They drove away, the girl eager for the food TJ handed her. The fries went first. She’d eaten nearly half of it all before she fell asleep, the milkshake still clutched in her hands.

TJ looked down at her. “Wonder how Eric feels about kids?”

Eric, who’d just come in from Texas a few minutes earlier, was sitting at the island when they walked in carrying the sleeping child. He looked up from his coffee, eyebrows raised in question.

TJ looked at Eric. “It’s a girl.”

His expression giving away nothing, he got up and studied the girl in Jeff’s arms. “About five years old. Neglected, right?”

“Someone left her alone in an unlocked apartment with no food. We found her there when we went to what we thought was going to be our appointment. Someone must have given us a phony address.”

“Put her in your room, TJ. The sofa opens into a bed and the linens are in the chest. I’ll look her over and you can get her settled. Then we’ll talk.”

Eric had a bottle of brandy on the counter when they came back into the kitchen. His face was grim. “All right. I’m a doctor if the kid needs medical attention and we have plenty of room here. If we’re able to help out a neglected kid, that feels like good news compared to everything else that’s been going on.”

TJ smiled, relieved. “Right, taking care of a kid will be good for us.”

He looked doubtful, his eyes dark. “Have you talked to Lisa about this?”

“Nah. Jeff wanted to, but I knew what she’d say. The kid would have been put in a group home, maybe even in detention temporarily until the system could find a foster.”

He raised the bottle and poured himself a generous drink, offering it to TJ and Jeff when he’d finished. “Technically, you’re kidnappers.” He wiped his face with his hands. “And the rest of us are aiding and abetting.”