“Jeeze. That tells me the person would have to be strong to use such a heavy and powerful tool to cut up a body. Messy too.”
“I agree. Needle marks indicate Santiago was a drug user. He bled out but there was enough blood for me to extract to send to the lab. His lungs, liver and kidneys were a mess. My guess from long-time use of crystal meth. All of this will be detailed in my report. I’ll also be sending a copy to the State Police.”
“Now that we know who he is, we’ll be notifying next of kin. Anything specific you can tell me about Santiago?”
“Finger tats were old, from his time in prison. The ones on his arms had been there for a while, but the tattoos of the maps on his thighs were done, maybe within the past two years. The detail was well done. I’ll forward the photos to you. I had a similar case a while back. I’d check with Detective Lockett.”
“Why would someone have a tattoo of a map on their thigh?”
“That’s why you’re the detective.”
Chapter 4
Georgie walked into the newspaper office off the parking lot. The usual pep to her step was missing. No special primping this morning. Jeans, a breezy blouse and her black and pink Sketchers. If she got called out for a story, she’d add her navy blazer.
It always gave her a heartwarming feeling walking through the doorway. The first thing visitors saw on the wall was a vintage sign. Beacon Pointe Gazette, Est. 1920. Mason’s grandfather was the first owner and editor.
Along with the receptionist’s desk, a row of chairs with navy cushion seats occupied the small office. Thriving spider plants hung from the ceiling in front of the three windows, breathing life into the greeting area.
Georgie hesitated. The receptionist’s chair was pushed under the desk and the computer monitor was dark. Their regular receptionist Betty was out on maternity leave, but the temp filling in for her was pleasant and had been doing a good job.
She continued down the carpet lined hall, passed Mason’s office that was dark. Frederica’s was as well. Friday was considered a slow day. The three-day weekend edition had hit the stands and newspaper racks this morning so it would be catch up and get stories ready for Monday.
First stop was the kitchen to get much needed coffee. She made the mistake of looking at the tray of pastries that had been delivered that morning from the Book and Brew. A cheese Danish was calling her name and temptation won out. She helped herself and took a bite. The combination of sugar and creamy cheese exploded with deliciousness on her tongue. She moaned. Caffeine and sugar - the perfect combination to give her tired body some much needed energy.
Madge was at her desk, concentrating on one of her latest artistic creations.
“This place is like a tomb on Fridays.” Georgie set her half eaten Danish and coffee cup on a napkin before sitting down at her desk.
“Morning. I appreciate the quiet.”
“Where’s the receptionist?”
“She called out sick and Frederica is pissed.”
Georgie booted up her computer. “But she’s the temp.”
“This is the fourth time the woman called out in the last three weeks. If anyone comes in, they can ring the bell on the desk.”
“I’ll help out.”
“Not necessary. Bernie’s on his way in and said he’d man the desk this afternoon while he works on publicity for the Footlight Theater.”
Madge handed Georgie the newspaper she’d set on the corner of her desk. “Great job on your story. The accident made page two.”
“Thanks.” She opened the paper and was pleased to see they’d used her photo of the car still in the front window. Reading her work in print always gave her a thrill, not that she wanted to continue to do the crime beat full time. She hadn’t submitted the Zorro sign on the woman’s eyelid. It was a hard enough lesson to learn. Don’t try to put on makeup and talk on the phone while driving.
“I’m anxious to hear why you had to give up your beauty sleep, not that you need it.” Madge teased.
Georgie closed the newspaper and set it to the side of her desk. “I’m still not sure.”
“So what happened?”
“The scanner went off a little after midnight. A man walking his dog in the park by town hall discovered a black plastic bag that was drawing flies. Who the heck walks their dog at one in the morning in a public park? I thought, a bag of garbage, no biggy, so I went back to sleep.
“The scanner went off again a little after three. A fisherman found a bag on the commercial fishing pier, again, lots of flies. People don’t properly discard fish guts so that’s bound to draw lots of flies. The road sergeant responded and requested two other cars as back-up.
“I asked myself why did a bag of garbage require so much attention? I rolled out of bed and drove out there. Along with the three police cars, there was an unmarked car and the first aid squad. Yellow crime scene tape was stretched out like you’d see at a murder scene.”
“For a bag of garbage?” Madge questioned.
“That’s what I thought. Kaitlyn Griffin was working the scene so I asked her what was going on. Her reply was, ‘She wasn’t at liberty to answer any questions.’ I was a distance away and went to take a few photos of the public safety vehicles, but she said no pictures and suggested I return to my vehicle.
“Everything in me said something was going on so I sat in my car for over an hour. I was about to call it a night, but a little before five another call came through about a suspicious bag of garbage at the commuter lot. Two of the radio cars, the unmarked, and the first aid squad left. I waited for a few minutes before following them.”
Georgie stopped to take another bite of her Danish and washed it down with coffee. “Same thing, no questions or pictures. They even closed off part of the lot. I did speak to a few of the commuters. They were worried it was a bomb. Kaitlyn kept her cool when the commuters demanded answers, but assured everyone they weren’t in any danger and suggested they return to their vehicles.
“I’ll be calling my contact at police headquarters this afternoon and will specifically ask about the supposed bags of garbage. Needless to say, I got home a little after six, took care of my critters and crawled into bed for three hours.”
“You had quite the adventure even if you weren’t able to get your story. It certainly wasn’t boring.”
“You’re right. Other than to walk the dog, I don’t venture out in the middle of the night.”
“How about I give Stan a call to see if he knows anything about what went down last night.”
“I’d appreciate that. I’m going to put in a few hours this afternoon, start my column, call police headquarters for a follow-up and then head home. I’ve got my breakfast date tomorrow morning.”
“Remember, I want a picture of Mrs. Butkus. It is Mrs.,” Madge prodded.
“She’s never mentioned a husband. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be doing my weekly volunteer work at the animal rescue shelter. Then I’ll be home chilling with my animals.”
“Let me call Stan before I forget.”
Georgie had just accessed the online file for letters from her fans and looked away from her computer when Madge called her name. “I just called his cell and he didn’t pick up. I left a message, asking if he knew anything about the police activity during the night. I’m sure he’ll call me back.”