She's Kill Crazy Page 6

  “Didn’t mean to scare you. We’re detectives Blake and Pierce. We’ve met before.”

  Her smile drops and her brows furrow. She tosses the latex gloves on a table behind the door and steps out. And then she clicks the door shut. “Is something wrong?” Vanessa asks.

  “If this is a bad time, we can come back.”

  “Plumbing problems. I can’t invite you in. What’s this concerning, anyway?”

  This is not going to be easy. Poor woman. How does one get over watching her mother get raped and suffocated? “It’s concerning your mother,” Candice says softly. “We’re reopening the case.”

  Her mouth puckers and her eyes dart back and forth as if her mind is racing. And then suddenly, her face lights up with a smile. “Let’s sit out back by the pool.”

  With her long, red braid bouncing on her back, Vanessa leads the way on a stone path that meanders around the house. She’s short, which makes her hair seem even longer.

  “Have you called a plumber?” Candice asks.

  “Yes,” she says with no further explanation about when the plumber is arriving or even what the problem is.

  Candice lets it go—her need to fix everything. That’s not why she’s here. She’s already stirred up a hornet’s nest of feelings in Vanessa. Feelings the poor girl would rather not remember.

  Vanessa opens a wrought iron gate and Candice follows. It clangs shut behind Todd. That’s the sound Candice wants to hear when they put the Napa Valley Killer behind bars.

  The three sit at a table next to the pool and smile awkwardly at one another.

  “I spoke to your father earlier today,” Candice says.

  Vanessa looks stunned. She squints and says, “He called me.”

  “Did he explain what we talked about?” Todd asks.

  Her eyes dart around. “I couldn’t answer the phone.” She glares at Candice. “The plumbing. I had to deal with that.”

  This must be terribly painful for her. Candice softens her voice again. “We have a new lead in your mother’s case.”

  Vanessa leans in and says eagerly, “You know who did it?”

  “Not yet.”

  Vanessa rolls her eyes. “What’s the lead?”

  “We think your mother’s killer has reemerged. We’ve talked to you before about the Napa Valley Killer after your father-in-law was murdered.”

  Her eyes lock with Candice’s. In a monotone, she says, “I remember.”

  “We believe it’s the same guy.”

  Vanessa places her elbows on the table and looks at Candice earnestly. “How can I help?”

  “I know you were only four when you witnessed,” Candice filters her words, “the crime.”

  Vanessa jaw tightens. “You mean my mother’s brutal rape and murder. You’re the first person who’s actually trying to find the bastard.”

  Good. She’s strong. Stronger than Candice thought.

  Todd hits the record button and lays the phone on the table.

  “I’m going to ask you a series of questions,” Candice says. “Do you mind if we record this?”

  Vanessa winks at Todd. “Go for it.”

  Candice pulls out a pad and pencil. “Why were you hiding behind the blue curtain?”

  Vanessa is silent for a moment, and then she raises her voice like a little girl and says, “I didn’t want the monster to see me.”

  “Was it day or night?” Candice already knows the answer. Let’s see if she’s still dealing with reality.

  “Day,” Vanessa says in the little girl voice.

  “What was your mom doing before the man came?”

  Vanessa rubs her forehead as if trying to think. In a normal voice, she says, “Picking tomatoes. We were out back. I was helping, but I had to pee, so I went in.” Her voice drops to a low monotone. “While I was peeing, I heard my mom scream.”

  Todd goes through the series of questions Vanessa already answered when she was four. Had you seen him before? Did he have hair? What color? Long or short? Mustache? Beard? Sideburns? Tall? Short? Regular clothes or a uniform? Scars? Tattoos?

  Same answers. Nothing new.

  Candice asks a question that’s not in the report. “The plastic bag with the white gathering string, had you ever seen one before?”

  Vanessa thinks for a moment. “All the vineyards have them. Tourists put them on their feet to smash grapes. We used to have tourists at our winery. Until my dad got that replacement family.”

  Candice is studying her face. The whole time Vanessa’s talking, she’s glancing around as if she’s nervous. Until her eyes slam into Candice’s and she says in a monotone, “You catch the Napa Valley Killer and you’ll have my mother’s killer. They’re one in the same.”

  Candice nods. “I’m curious. When we spoke with you last year about the murder of your father-in-law, you didn’t mention your mother was killed the exact same way. Asphyxiation with a plastic bag.

  Vanessa squints. “You didn’t ask.”

  “Fair enough.” A wave of incompetency washes over Candice. Vanessa is right. Candice should have known about the connection to the cold case. Someone in the Sheriff’s department should have known. Half of them were around thirty years ago.

  Candice glances at her notes. “Did the man say anything to your mother while you were watching behind the blue curtain?”

  Vanessa thinks for a moment. “I don’t remember.”

  Candice shifts in the chair. “Did your mother say anything that indicated she’d seen him before?”

  “She said something inside the plastic bag, but it was muffled.”

  Todd balls his fist like he wants to punch the killer. Candice keeps her voice steady. “What did the man do after it was over?”

  Vanessa shakes her head. “I can’t remember anything after that.”

  Candice sighs. “Last question. Are you willing to be hypnotized by one of our experts to help you remember more?”

  “No.” she says firmly and stands up.

  With that, Todd turns off the recorder and they follow Vanessa around front.

  Before getting in the car, Todd gives Vanessa his card and says, “I know you described the killer when you were four, but I want you to do it again. Make an appointment to come down and create a new composite sketch. We have age progression tools to help us figure out what he looks like today.”

  No answer.

  On the drive back, Candice says, “She’s still seething from the request to go under hypnosis. That could mean something.”

  “Naw,” Todd says. “Why would she want to relive that?”

  Candice curls her lips. “The only person trying to relive that horror is the Napa Valley Killer.”

  CHAPTER 22

  TWO WEEKS LATER, Candice is packing a suitcase. Peter wraps his arms around her and says, “The girls and I are packed.”

  Candice squeezes him. “Thanks for being such a great house husband.”

  “Uh, teaching high school history hardly makes me a house husband.”

  “It does in the summer,” she says and zips up the suitcase.

  “Summer’s over,” Peter says with a touch of resentment. “Glad you could squeeze in some time for Labor Day weekend.”

  Summer’s over and Candice is no closer to finding the Napa Valley Killer, even with the new composite sketch that Vanessa Flynn provided. The DNA evidence from the cold case is yielding no matches to sex offenders anywhere in the country and there’s no DNA evidence at any of the last four killings. After a long weekend in Santa Cruz with her family, she’ll come back and make a fresh start.

  Peter grabs her suitcase and wheels it out the door. Candice picks up the remote to flip off the local news, but stops when the reporter says, “In Golden Ridge, a third man has died of thallium poisoning. All three men died in Napa County hospitals within the past forty-eight hours.”

  Her mouth drops and so does the remote.

  She finds Peter in the kitchen filling an ice chest with fruit salad, cheese sandwiche
s, and bottles of water. Candice’s phone rings and Peter gives her a disconcerting look.

  “Yeah, I heard,” Candice says to Sheriff Lee. “Three dead, so far.”

  Peter slams the lid on the ice chest.

  “Why me?” Candice says. “Can’t Todd handle it?” I cover my phone and say to Peter, “The girls ready?”

  “Waiting in the Jeep,” Peter heaves the ice chest out the door.

  Sheriff Lee says Todd left town for the long weekend. “You’re all I got left.” He says it like he’s scraping the bottom of the barrel. “And the damn FBI’s coming.”

  “I understand. I’ll be right there.” Candice tosses the phone on the counter and queasiness creeps inside her stomach.

  Outside, Peter is sitting in the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Candice opens the back door and kisses Sydney and Alex. “Buckle up and have fun.”

  “No! You’re coming, Mommy.”

  Even though her heart is aching, Candice shuts the door and says to Peter, “Sheriff Lee hates it when the FBI comes in. That’s why—”

  Peter hits the gas and turns onto the street.

  Candice’s eyes well up. Public safety has always been more important than her family. Her maternal instincts stretch far beyond her two children. It’s as if her family includes all the residents of Napa County and it’s her duty to protect them. Why can’t she have normal maternal instincts like most women?

  Candice growls in frustration. She’ll go to the office and get started on the investigation, and then she’ll drive down to Santa Cruz and spend two days with her family.

  CHAPTER 23

  THREE MALE VICTIMS so far. Candice calls three county patrol units into the staff meeting room. When the sixth officer moseys in, she begins. They’re giving her that you’re not going to tell us what to do look. She tells them to sit down.

  “As lead investigator on this case, the first thing I want you to do is secure the homes of the victims.” She hands out addresses of the three victims houses, one to each patrol unit. “That means removing all residents from the home and transporting them to the Arbor Inn and Suites. Do not let them pack or remove any items from the house. Then seal off each house so we can investigate the crime scenes.”

  One patrol officer clears his throat. “How do you know the homes are the crime scenes?”

  Not letting his cynical tone distract her, Candice says, “We don’t.” One by one, she makes eye contact with every officer in the room. “After the surviving family members get moved, make sure they don’t speak to each other. I want a patrol officer at each door. Then have a county nurse draw blood from every person who resides in those houses. I want them tested for thallium.”

  The phone rings. It’s FBI Agent Greg Hanson.

  Candice dismisses the officers. “Notify me when the crime scenes are secured.”

  “Thallium poisoning?” Agent Hansen says. “That’s new.”

  “Possibly absorbed through the skin. The victims had rashes on their faces and armpits. I’m getting autopsies to see if that’s where the thallium entered the bodies.”

  “Good work, Candy. I’m flying in tomorrow.”

  No one calls her Candy. It’s almost degrading. But Candice doesn’t mind. No one in county law enforcement respects her, but the FBI does and that’s saying something.

  “Is this a terrorist attack?” Candice asks.

  “Guess we’ll find out. Where are you so far?”

  “Sending out patrol units to quarantine the families and secure the crime scenes.”

  “You’re the best,” Greg says.

  Forty-five minutes later, Candice is pulling up to the first house. The forensic photographer is there. Candice puts on a mask, plastic gloves, and a pair of shoe covers before stepping inside and the photographer does the same. The doors and windows have no signs of forced entry. The house seems in reasonable order.

  Candice goes to the master bathroom and opens the shower door. She bags two bottles of shampoo and a bottle of body wash. On the bathroom countertop, she gathers a bottle of lotion, the hand soap dispenser and a tube of toothpaste, and bags them, too. From a drawer, she pulls out some spray on deodorant and bottle of roll-on deodorant. In the next drawer, she finds a jar of shaving gel, a can of shaving cream, and an open package of razors. After labeling the bags, she places them in a cart.

  She does the same in the other bathroom. In the kitchen, she bags up all open food products.

  Now for the next two houses.

  As she’s bagging products in the third house, it hits her that all three houses have the same unusual products from a spa. Mint Shaving Gel and Musk Deodorant. And the victims had rashes on their faces and underarms.

  By the time Candice ships all the bathroom and kitchen products off for testing, the sun is setting. Through wooden blinds in her office, the orange sky seems close, but her family feels far away. They’re probably watching the same brilliant colors in the sky as the sun slips behind the Pacific Ocean in Santa Cruz.

  Candice picks up the phone and calls Peter, but his voicemail message starts. She doesn’t want to leave a message. She wants to talk to Peter. And the girls. When his greeting ends and the phone beeps, Candice says, “I was planning on leaving tonight and spending Sunday with you all, but now the FBI isn’t coming until tomorrow, so I can’t leave. Maybe Monday. I’m sorry.”

  Candice tries, but she can’t fathom spending time on amusement park rides or laying on the beach when there’s so much work to do here. Do her daughters hate her as much as Peter?

  On the computer, she zooms in on a spa product and a warm tear trickles down her cheek.

  CHAPTER 24

  AGENT GREG HANSON has a contagious smile. He’s wearing a dark gray T-shirt that reveals his sculpted physique, jeans, and a gun strapped on the back of his belt. He’s also wearing a wedding band, which means he’s mastering the art of balancing work and family.

  “Can’t stay long,” Greg says. “My partner’s still in Reno. I fast-tracked the lab tests.”

  Candice pulls the results up on the screen and Greg looks over her shoulder. “Where’s your partner?” he asks.

  Candice scrolls through the results slowly. “Enjoying Labor Day weekend.”

  “Let me guess, he’s twice our age.”

  “Yup, the only thing that scares him is a woman with a gun.”

  Candice stops at Thallium. At each crime scene, the results are the same. High concentrations of thallium poison in the Mint Shaving Gel and Musk Deodorant. All from one company, Spa di Venus.

  “We need fingerprints from those bottles,” Candice says. “And a search warrant for Spa di Venus.”

  “I don’t want to step on your toes,” Greg says, “but I can make that happen pronto.”

  Candice nods. “My toes are fine.”

  CHAPTER 25

  IT’S SUNDAY AND Spa di Venus is closed. Candice pulls into the parking lot and Greg closes his tablet. “The owner lives on the property,” he says.

  When Candice turns off the ignition, the front door to the spa opens and a tall woman wearing workout clothes steps out. Candice and Greg get out of the car and hold up their badges.

  “What’s this about?” the woman asks, surveying both detectives.

  Candice pulls off her shades. “Are you the owner, Nancy Van Cleave?”

  “I go by the name Venus,” she says.

  “Well Venus,” Greg hands her the paperwork. “We have a warrant to search your spa.”

  “Sure,” Venus says, waving them in. “What’s this about?”

  Candice snaps on two gloves. “We’re—”

  “We’ll search the premises first,” Greg interrupts. “Then we’ll talk.”

  Venus pauses. “Alrighty then. I have nothing to hide.”

  Just inside the door, Candice moves toward a display shelf with a sign that reads, New Products. “Greg,” she says, “over here.”

  Greg holds the plastic bag open and Candice drops all
the bottles of Mint Shaving Gel and Musk Deodorant inside.

  Venus furrows her brows, but says nothing.

  Greg follows Candice down a hall. “She doesn’t seem nervous,” Candice whispers to Greg.

  “Serial killers don’t get nervous,” Greg whispers back.

  Candice turns into a storage room.

  “I’m going this way,” Greg says.

  Candice sticks her head back out the door. “Text me if you find something.”

  Greg smiles. “Sure thing, partner.”

  But it’s not Greg who finds something. It’s Candice. A large cardboard box on a shelf that contains a tablet, a printer, a white plastic bottle labeled, Thallium, and at the bottom, some notecards. The notecards read:

  A gift from Spa di Venus…

  My two new products for men.

  Thank you for being a valued customer.

  Venus

  Candice shoots a text to Greg. She turns on the tablet, but the battery is dead. There’s a cord in the box and by the time Greg arrives, Candice is looking at the browser history. She hands the bottle of Thallium to Greg. “She bought the thallium on eBay,” Candice says.

  “May I?” Greg takes the tablet and types in some html code. “It’s registered to Nancy Van Cleave.” He carefully places everything back in the box and says, “Congratulations, you did it. I’ll carry this while you do the honors.”

  At the appointment desk, Venus is waiting. “So, what’s this about?” she asks.

  Candice unclips the handcuffs. “Nancy Van Cleave, you’re under arrest.” Her tone is professional as she’s reciting the Miranda rights, but inside, Candice is beaming.

  On the drive to the Napa County Jail, Candice studies Nancy Van Cleave in the rearview mirror. In the back seat, her detainee is staring out the window with her lips sealed tight.

  “That was easy,” Greg says.

  So why is another feeling tugging at Candice?

  Yeah, a little too easy.