Taylor attended herself so the chief could have instant updates to share with his high-profile friends. It was an unremarkable event and only served to make her miss Sam more. Dr. Fox was a good M.E., quick and to the point, but he lacked that little bit extra, the sixth sense Sam seemed to have for making a murder come to life. The girl had been stabbed once, the knife most likely a seven to eight inch double bladed stiletto, sliding right past her ribs under her breastbone into her heart. THC showed on the tox screen; a more complete report would take weeks. Exsanguination was the official cause of death, and it was ruled a homicide.
Taylor felt sorry for Go-Go. She was obviously a very troubled girl, but one who didn’t deserve to die on the street at the wrong end of a blade.
It was still early when Fox finished the post. Taylor debated stopping at Waffle House and getting breakfast, but decided to go back to the office first, which ended up being a good call. The videos from TPAC were waiting on her, with a note from Tim – “Check out 3:47 p.m. Think we may have a shot of our guy. I’m in court, will be over as soon as I’m done.”
Taylor popped the disc into her laptop and hit play.
The footage was surprisingly clear, though in muted black and white. She dragged the bar to the spot Tim suggested and hit play. It took three replays to see it. Damn, Tim had a good eye. There was a flash of white in the bottom right edge of the screen, which Taylor figured must be the bill of a hat. Her theory was confirmed a moment later when a man walked through the full frame, wearing a white baseball cap. He stepped right into a bundle of rags that Taylor assumed must have been Go-Go, then disappeared out of the frames. Go-Go dropped to the ground, and that was it. A fraction of a second. And the bastard’s back to the camera the whole time.
Well, the tapes had at least narrowed her search down to the male species. That cut out fifty percent of the suspect pool.
She did some quick mental measuring, putting the guy against the stone wall that led to the auditorium and figured he wasn’t over six foot. That Gustafson fellow was about that height as well.
She played the tape several more times, but couldn’t find anything more. The idea that Go-Go had managed to pick the man’s pocket as he stabbed her looked incredibly remote. It was a blitz attack, fast, clean. Professional even. And if it was his wallet, he certainly didn’t attempt to retrieve it. He hit the girl, knocked her down and was gone in the blink of an eye. Maybe she was barking up the wrong tree here.
Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts, and she glanced down to see the cell number of her new sergeant. She answered, “Jackson.”
“Hey, Loot. It’s Parks. I’m down here on River Road boat ramp. We have a floater. ID on him says his name is Heath Stover, late of the great Crescent City.”
“Bully for you. Call Wade, he’s on. I’m working Go-Go.”
Parks said, “I know you are. I’ve already got Wade here. But this is something you might want to see. Our New Orleans dude? He’s been stabbed. Right in the same place as Go-Go.”
Heath Stover’s overweight torso bore a familiar mark, just under his sternum, a slash in the flesh that allowed the yellow subcutaneous fat to squish out around the edges of the wound. The water had washed the blood away. Fox got on the autopsy immediately once the body arrived at Forensic Medical, and Taylor stood to the side, watching, arms crossed, tapping the toe of her boot on the floor while Fox measured and murmured and inserted a caliper into the slit to determine its depth. He finally stood and nodded.
“Same kind of blade. Double edged, sharp as hell. See how there’s no hesitation, nor wiggle room? Went straight in, under the sternum and into the heart.” Fox stood up and looked at Taylor, his brown eyes troubled. “I have to tell you, Lieutenant, whoever did this knew what he was doing.”
“Is it the same person who killed Go-Go?”
“I can’t tell you that. But he — or she — knew exactly where to place the blade for maximum effectiveness. This isn’t your every day stabbing. It’s clean, precise, and done with amazing skill. And Go-Go’s had an identical presentation.”
“I think we’re safe saying he, I believe we have Go-Go’s murder on tape. If she hadn’t gone down I’d have thought he just bumped into her. It was quick. Here, help me run this through.”
They played out the scenario she’d seen on the tape a few times, and Fox confirmed that based on Go-Go’s wound, the stabbing could definitely work that way.
“But Stover here, he got stabbed, then went in the river somewhere. Wasn’t in too long and there is water in his lungs, just a bit, so he was on his last legs when he went in. Could be your blitz attacker hit him and he went in the water, or he killed him by the bank and pushed him. Radiographs show he does have a few broken bones, so he either got in a fight, or fell—”
“Off one of the bridges. We can do a current analysis from last night and see where he might have gone in.”
“That makes sense to me. Huh. Two in one day. Dude’s got a serious problem.”
“No kidding. Thanks, Fox. Now I have to go put Stover and Go-Go together, find out what they have in common. Then I can figure out who did this to them both.”
The words floated to her head again, this time slightly altered.
One of these things is too much like the other.