Nobody's Odds

Nobody’s Odds

by Philip Mongeau

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2016 Philip Mongeau

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

Cover design and photography by the author. © 2016 Philip Mongeau

Table of Contents

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

We have a case, Judy, said Detective Alexis Kinyara on the phone to his partner. 

Good grief, what time is it? she muttered into the receiver as she tried to read the time on her bedside clock.

I'm sorry, it's only five o’clock. It's City Councilman, Ron Connors. The morning cleaning crew found his body propped up in front of the statue by City Hall. Apparently it's pretty gruesome. He’s been mutilated. I just got the call and I'm heading there now. Would you like me to pick you up?

No thanks, I'll meet you there. Judy Prior lived in Osprey, a good half hour drive from downtown Sarasota. As she reached over to turn on the bedside lamp, her black cat, Felix, looked up at her disdainfully from the foot of her bed, as if to ask why he was being disturbed from his cat and mouse dreams. He didn't bother moving when Judy jumped up to take a quick shower before leaving.

She was under the shower before the water warmed up and the cool flow over her head finished the job of waking her up. She quickly lathered her blond hair with shampoo and thought that an elastic band would have to take care of any necessary grooming this morning.

She wondered what could have happened to the councilman. He had been publicly criticized recently for cutbacks that the City of Sarasota was being forced to make. Though Ron Connors didn’t make all the tough decisions, he was the face that people recognized in the media. Whenever there was more bad news, he was the one to deliver it. Judy had never met the councilman but no one seemed to like him very much because he appeared so hard-nosed when he announced another cutback. Alexis had mentioned mutilation on the phone. She shivered at the thought as she towelled herself dry in front of the full-length mirror in her bathroom.

Though the mirror was partly fogged by the shower, she couldn’t help but notice how her body had kept its shape for nearly forty years. Though she had often been told that she was beautiful, she didn’t recognize it in herself. She always thought the strong jawline and high cheekbones made her look too aggressive, and that the wide eyes and large forehead just made her look curious.

She touched the little silver cross she always wore on a thin chain around her neck, given to her by her late grandmother, who had always acted as her protector when she was growing up. It was Nana whom she could ask questions that she would never share with her own mother. Now that she had passed away, Judy thought of her as a guardian angel and she was always aware of the tiny cross.

She towel dried her shoulder length hair and brushed it back, holding it together with her left hand so she could make a ponytail and forget it for the day. She didn’t bother with any makeup except for a muted toned lipstick that was more for protecting her lips from the sun than adding any color to her unblemished complexion.

She put on some comfortable cotton panties and a no-nonsense bra that concealed the fact that her nipples had hardened in the cool air conditioning of her bedroom. She put on her usual white blouse and khaki pants and attached her gun and badge to her belt before heading to the kitchen to look after Felix’s breakfast and something for herself that she could eat in the car. No time for coffee. When she opened a can of food for Felix, the sound of the can opener that would normally bring him running, didn’t elicit a response from him at all. She left him some extra food, knowing that a murder investigation could keep her from returning home at a reasonable hour.

A quick look in her fridge confirmed a limited choice for breakfast. She never kept more than bare necessities on hand. She settled on some peanut butter that she slathered in between two slices of bread, then grabbed her blue blazer out of the entrance cupboard and headed out into the cool November morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet and the streetlights made the dew glisten on her lawn. Her old blue Honda was parked underneath the carport, protected from the dew. Her home was newer than her car. Her original home had been burned down by the head of a bank she and Alexis had pursued on a mortgage fraud case at the beginning of the Great Recession that had affected the State of Florida so badly. It had taken a while to settle things with the insurers but her home had finally been replaced with a brighter, open floor plan that suited her single life, shared with a cat as her only companion.

There was virtually no traffic and she was able to fly north up the Tamiami trail to the center of Sarasota. She turned at Orange Avenue and raced to First Street, where she turned left towards a bright display of blue flashing police cruiser lights. She pulled into the second entrance to the parking lot because the first entrance was blocked. She stepped out of her car and flashed her badge at one of the patrolmen who was still putting up yellow and black crime-scene tape around the west side of the building. She could see Alexis’s dark face as he stood a head taller than anyone at the scene. He was standing with his legs apart and his hands on his hips, with his jacket spread open. When he noticed Judy coming towards the scene, he quickly stepped towards her, raising a hand in a motion to stop.

She recognized the gesture and stopped cold, searching his face for a sign of why he had stopped her.

It’s pretty bad, Judy, he said by way of greeting. Someone really hated him.

For God’s sake, I’m not a kid, she replied shortly. I can handle it.

I just wanted you to be prepared.

Thanks, she said, feeling badly about her brusqueness and touched his arm as she walked past him towards the small group of technicians who were beginning to arrive and set up lights.

Councilman Ronald Connors was propped up in a seated position on the large slab of concrete that supported a life size copper sculpture of a group of standing people. The sculpture by Sarasota artist, Jack Cartlidge, appeared to be standing over Connor’s body. His body leaned forward with his legs spread and hands placed on the slab beside his knees. He was wearing a white shirt and striped tie. The shirttails and the end of his tie were soaked in blood. He wore no pants. His pubic hairs and the inside of his thighs were matted in dried blood. His eyes were wide open from the shock of his last moments of life. His mouth was also open, into which his genitals had been stuffed. The slab of concrete was raised high enough to bring the scene to eye level. Connor’s right hand rested next to the plaque, crediting the artist for his work, entitled Nobody’s Listening.

Judy brought up a hand to her mouth in a reflexive reaction to the horror of the scene. She could feel Alexis’s hand take her gently but firmly by her elbow. She leaned slightly toward him and said, No, I’m okay. God, I hope they killed him first.

I don’t think so. There was so much blood on him that his heart still had to be pumping. He was obviously moved here since there isn’t too much blood on the ground.

She continued, He had to have been dead for at least four hours for rigor to have allowed them to prop him up like this.

The ME is on her way; she’ll be able to give us an accurate time of death.

He was referring to Dr. Naomi Davidson, the beautiful African-American medical examiner who Judy considered to be a little more attracted to her handsome African partner from Rwanda than she would have liked.

Her mind was now more concerned with the demise of Ron Connors who had been partially responsible for her and Alexis’s rise to the position of senior homicide investigators. The former homicide team of Jefferson and Able had accepted an early retirement package as part of Sarasota’s attempt to reduce the city’s payroll. Ron Connors had been blamed for many of the cuts.

Judy noticed that Connors was wearing a wedding ring. He was married, she said. Do you know if there were any kids?

Yes, two. They’re college age.

Has she heard?

Not yet. The mayor is on his way here. He said he wanted to be there when we tell her.

Had she reported him missing?

There was no record of that at the switchboard.

Who ID’d him? The cleaners?

No, they found him like this at 4:30 when they showed up for work. They do our building, too, and one of them called the duty officer. The first uniforms over here recognized him from seeing him on TV so often.

Oh, shit. Look what’s coming. Judy pointed at the TV news truck that had pulled up to the barrier created by the police cruisers at the entrance to the parking lot.

Keep them out of here, Alexis called to the patrolman who had just finished with the tape.

Yes sir, the officer replied, already heading towards the news van.

Judy said, I wish the mayor would show up. This would be a horrible way to learn about your husband and father on the morning news.

A black Suburban appeared out of the dark and stopped next to the news van. There was no room to advance further.

Here is our mayor now, said Alexis, nodding his head at the SUV. I guess he wants to have a photo-op before he comes over to find out what happened.

Two men in dark suits exited the van before Mayor George Tully stepped out and adjusted the front of his jacket, then touched both sides of his head as if to make sure that not a single hair was out of place. Of course, his hair was perfect, as it always appeared to be, with just enough gel to prevent any movement of his steel gray coiffure, without it looking greasy.

How did he get out of bed, all dressed and slicked up, with his complete entourage in tow so quickly? Judy mused.

He lives for events where he can look like a leader, Judy.

The TV lights lit up immediately as the mayor stepped forward and they could see him stop and readjust his jacket with his two minions flanking him. Though he was too far away for Judy and Alexis to hear what he said, they could imagine words of praise for Councilman Connors and a promise to bring the perpetrator to swift justice. After a few words, he smiled and nodded at the interviewer and walked briskly towards the detectives.

As he stepped up to Judy and Alexis he extended his right hand, revealing an exact inch of white cuff finished with a gold cufflink. His smile had disappeared.

After shaking hands with both of them, he inquired curtly, So, what have we got here?

The councilman was murdered brutally, replied Alexis. Would you like to see his body?

No, that won’t be necessary. Do you have any idea who could have done this?

No Sir, not yet. Alexis stated. All we can tell so far is that it happened about four to six hours ago, based on rigor and that his body was placed here after the murder, judging from the amount of blood. The technicians are setting lights up now to look for possible bloody footprints or anything left behind and I’ve asked for someone to give us access to any surveillance videos. The ME is on her way here now. We’re just getting started.

I want this to be the only thing you think about until it’s solved. I’ll talk to your captain. Use whatever resources you need, including any necessary overtime. How did he die? Can you at least tell me that? I have to tell his wife something.

It appears to be multiple stab wounds, though we can’t move the body to confirm that until the ME comes. He has also been mutilated.

Mutilated? How?

His sex organs. They were cut off and placed in his mouth.

Oh, my God! What the hell am I going to tell Bea?

Perhaps I should come with you, Mr. Mayor, said Judy. We’ll have some questions for her. Turning to Alexis, she continued, Maybe you could wait for Naomi and I could go with the mayor. I think we need to notify Mrs. Connors as quickly as possible.

Of course. You go on ahead then give me a call when you’re done.

The mayor nodded and turned on his heels. Judy hurried behind him and said, My car is here. I’ll follow you, Sir.

No, come with me. I’ll have my driver drop you off afterwards. We can talk on the way.

Chapter Two

Judy and the mayor were alone in the backseat of the Suburban. She felt an awkward moment of silence as Mayor Tully adjusted his cuffs and inspected his polished fingernails before saying, I was at their wedding. I’ve watched their kids grow up. Quite honestly, I’m not ever known to be at a loss for words, but I don’t know what to tell Bea. I can’t gloss it over; the press will certainly reveal all the gory details. She’ll be crushed.

Would you like me to talk to her, Sir? You could be there for moral support.

No. I have to do it. We’re too close for anyone else to tell her this kind of news. All I care about is finding out who did this and bringing them to justice. Like I said before, I don’t want you or Kinyara to look at anything but this case until that sucker is in jail or dead. Do you understand?

Yes, Sir, she replied quietly.

However, I do have some concern about your and Kinyara’s experience. You are both new to homicide and we can’t afford to have you screw up on this case. If you aren’t one hundred percent confident in your abilities, I’d prefer if you ask for help. Are you sure you’re up to it?

Yes, Sir, we are.

I hope so.

He continued to look at her for a moment then turned away and didn’t speak again as they drove north on the Tamiami Trail past the Van Wezel Theatre and turned left onto Mecca Drive, just before the Ringling Museum. At Bayshore Road they turned left and drove down half a block to the entrance of the Connors’s home. They stopped in the circular driveway in front of the naturally stained wood and glass door that stood under the portico, supported by wooden columns. The only visible light glowed from above the front door.

Mayor Tully bounded up the four marble steps that led to the front door and rang the buzzer as Judy came around the SUV from the other side and hurried to catch up. A light came on from inside of the house. Judy could see the outline of someone coming hurriedly towards the door then pulling the sheer curtains aside that covered the glass panels to see who was at the door at that hour.

The door swung open to reveal a woman in her late fifties who was still tying the sash around the front of her bathrobe. Her auburn hair that had been carefully streaked with blond highlights was in disarray and her mouth was open, as if she could tell the mayor was bearing terrible news.

George, what is it? she blurted out at the mayor before he could say a word.

It’s Ron, Bea, he replied, taking her upper arms in both hands. He was killed.

What are you saying? she drew back in disbelief. Was there an accident?

No, Bea. I’m sorry. He was murdered.

What? How? she cried in shock and pushed the mayor’s hands away from her arms as she tried to back away from him.

We don’t have any details yet, Bea. His body was just found this morning in front of City Hall. It appears that he was stabbed to death.

Oh, my God! She then looked back up the stairs. I thought he was in bed. When he works late, he sometimes sleeps in one of the spare bedrooms so as not to wake me. My God! Are you sure it’s him? She began to retreat backwards towards the stairs as if to go and check.

Yes, Bea. It’s him. We’re sure. How about the kids? Are they here?

They’re both up in Gainesville, at Florida.

I forgot that they’ve grown up. He turned slightly towards Judy and said, This is Detective Judy Prior. She and her partner will be investigating this.

Judy stepped forward slightly and said, I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Connors. May I just ask you a couple of questions?

Beatrice Connors stood stalk still with her eyes wide open like a deer in headlights.

Maybe we should sit down? Judy asked quietly.

Mrs. Connors jerked slightly as if she had received an electric shock, turned to Judy and raised a hand to point towards the living room without saying a word.

The room was still in darkness until the mayor stepped over near the entrance to switch on the light. The room became bathed in a warm light revealing terra cotta colored tile floors with Persian area rugs surrounded by heavy furniture upholstered in muted red and brown tones.

Mrs. Connors sat in the middle of the three-seat sofa and Mayor Tully and Judy faced her from two armchairs. She looked fragile sitting on the large sofa with her shoulders slumped forward.

Judy began, Mrs. Connors, has your husband indicated that he’s had any threats or problems with others recently?

No, nothing like that. He’s always being criticized for something. That’s become normal for him. He doesn’t discuss any details with me. He tries to leave it behind at work.

Do you know why he was working late last night?

No. He does a lot of that. He’s been trying to cope with budget cuts and it hasn’t been easy for him.

Has he shown any signs of recent stress?

Are you kidding? He’s always under stress. He has a terrible job. Oh, God, he’s not coming home. I can’t think of him in the past tense. She bowed her head and covered her face with both hands but had not yet shed a tear.

Mayor Tully scowled at Judy then turned