Chapter 1

 

I watched her as she carefully and meticulously examined every detail. She was a study in grace and beauty in a macabre setting.  She was kneeling beside the body of a dead man.

“Any idea who the victim might be?” I asked her. Her, being Diane Grover, a detective with the Mapleton Police Department.  I am Justin Heckler and I have the dubious honor of being the chief of detectives for that department. I was following protocol by staying out of the way while she made her investigation. To paraphrase an old adage, too many detectives spoil the crime scene.

I should, in the interest of full disclosure, say that our detective department consists of just Diane and me. It is a smallish police department in a smallish town.

Mapleton’s only claims to fame are its proximity to larger cities and that a large state forest lies to the west and north of us. It is a Mecca for hunters and fishermen in their season and hikers and campers in their season. There is one other thing that Mapleton can brag about and that’s it’s the birthplace of me.

A lot of people have the mistaken idea that Maple County and the town of Mapleton are so named because of the large population of maple trees. That isn’t the case at all. During the Mexican-American War, Randolph Maple, a private, did something heroic. Maybe he got the general a cup of coffee at exactly the right moment. Anyway, he came home a hero and they named a county and a town after him.

 “I do not have even a clue,” Di, as she was affectionately known, responded while kneeling beside the body. “The absent of any identification and no head or hands is making it difficult. It’s obvious he wasn’t killed or decapitated here. There’s no sign of any blood at all.”

“It’s not often that we find a body that is both handless and headless,” I observed. In fact I was absolutely sure it had never happened to me before.

“You got that right, Heck,” she said and stood. “It’s certainly a first for me. I have the dispatcher checking missing person reports.  Ah, here’s the medical examiner and the ambulance crew.”

“Are you ready to release the scene?” I asked.

“No reason not to,” she answered motioning the ME’s crew to come on. “I’ve check out the area and there is nothing they can mess up. There are bike tracks, people tracks, horse tracks, and some kind of machine tracks but nothing I can pinpoint belonging to the scene. Whatever happened, didn’t happen here and there is something wrong with the body.” I thought ‘something wrong’ was a gross understatement considering the lack of head or hands but I let it go.

“Is it by accident or design that a headless man is found on a riding trail used by horsemen?” I asked her as we made our way back down the trail.

“I don’t get…oh, the headless horseman thing,” she said. “I’ll give that some thought.”

“Don’t bother,” I said. “I was just being silly. We are nowhere near Sleepy Hollow. I’ll see you back at the office.”

 

Chapter 2

 

“Heck, there are no local missing persons that fit the description of our headless horseman,” Di announced a short while later. Just as Diane had been shortened to Di, my name had been shortened from Heckler to Heck. That happened in elementary school and I’ve never been able to shake it. I’m just happy my last name isn’t Tittles.

“Okay, now I wish I had never mentioned headless horseman,” I said. “I’m sure the media will have fun with it. Open the search out to statewide and get what little we have on the national circuit. Surely someone will miss him.”

“I noticed his clothing was good quality,” Di said. “The shoes were imported from Italy. Pants and shirt were tailored but not quite a great fit. I’m going over to the hospital for the autopsy. Do you want to come with me?”

“No, I have some paperwork I need…shut-up, Di.” Di was grinning broadly. She knew how much I hated to attend a postmortem. “I really do have some paperwork to attend to.”

“I believe you, boss,” she said and left me laughing.

Mapleton is a small town with a tad over twenty-five thousand inhabitants. Until a few years ago, we were considered a rural community. Our geographic location made us a target when the surrounding larger city folk wanted a taste of the country life. The lower property taxes coupled with the completion of an interstate highway were major considerations and suddenly the population doubled and was well on its way to doubling again. In spite of the population growth spurt we still retain many of the qualities of small town America.

A few of the farmers got wise, stopped farming, and subdivided their land into housing tracts. Long before the housing and population boom arrived, the city fathers and a few city mothers also got wise and extended the town limits in every direction. It seemed foolish at the time because much of the newly acquired land was nothing more than pastures or cropland that brought in very little in the way of taxes. It only took a few years to prove that their foresight was wise. The city’s growth spurt happened about the same time as my return to Mapleton.

I was born and raised here. I left to go fight our country’s foes as a member of the United States Army. I was a military policeman while I served and that was the main reason I was hired as a city cop. During my military tenure, I took every college course offered and managed to get an associate degree in criminal science before the Army and I parted ways.

I came on board about the same time as Diane Grover but our entry was vastly different. She was hired as a part-time dispatcher, part-time parking enforcement officer, and part-time animal control officer. The fools in personnel didn’t recognize, at the time, that they had a super-talented peace officer and expert investigator within their grasp. Over the course of time Di was eventually promoted to full-time patrolman.

I suppose it true of every small town. Five percent of the people cause ninety-five percent of the trouble. I don’t know but maybe the stats hold true for a city of any size. I often wondered if we identify the five percent and banish them, would there be another five percent fill the void? Again I just don’t know. Probably there would, because nature abhors a vacuum.

Two years previous, after a bitterly fought election, there were many changes. The old city council was mostly replaced by new blood. The old guard was sent packing and shortly after the new guard took office, they sent the old chief of police home along with the old city councilmen.

In their collective wisdom, the new city council hired Red O’Hara as chief of police. Of course Red was not his real name but a red-headed man with the last name of O’Hara had to expect to get the nickname Red. The council reached out-of-state to find Red O’Hara. He had been an assistant chief for a much larger city.

I liked Red from his first day on the job. He is a likeable man but I liked him much more after he appointed me chief of detectives and promoted Diane Grover from patrolman to detective to help me. It only took Red O’Hara a couple of months to recognize Di’s talents as an investigator. Of course, I had recognized her abilities long before Red arrived. When I was the only investigator she volunteered to help me from time to time and she was really good.

Di had many wonderful qualities. She is beautiful for one thing. Drop-dead gorgeous and she doesn’t know it. I mean she is aware that other people find her beautiful but she doesn’t understand why. She is intelligent, having an IQ that puts her in the genius or near-genius category. Again she doesn’t seem to be aware she is a brain and apparently can’t understand why others thinks she is special.

Diane isn’t a native. She was born and raised in the Pacific north-west. One summer, as a teen-ager, she and her parents were on a traveling vacation and passed through Mapleton. Something about the place caught her attention and after a stint in the Air Force, she came to Mapleton to put down some roots.

I met Di back when I was a lowly patrol officer and she a part-time dispatcher, dogcatcher, and so forth. We dated for a couple of months when it dawned on both of us we really loved one another but not in that way. She said it best.

“Heck, I think I’d rather have a good friend than a lover. I can always find a lover but a true friend is hard to come by.”

No truer words and I couldn’t have agreed more. Di was everything any man could want in a lover but she was much better to me as a friend. I could count on her to be honest, loyal, and protective. She knew she could count on me to be the same. If you needed someone to get your back, you could do no better than Di.

If I hadn’t like Red O’Hara before I would have loved him for going to bat for the cops with the city council. He got us all a raise in pay and best of all, some desperately needed equipment. New vehicles replaced the death-traps we had been driving. He got us new radio equipment and cell phones. Within a year every cop had his own vehicle. The vehicle was theirs to keep and maintain.

 It’s a proven fact that the drivers took better care of their vehicle if they knew they had to drive it the next day. If they needed to go to the hardware, the grocery store, or anywhere inside the city, they drove a city police car. Red’s idea was that it paid in the long run to have an extra marked patrol car with an armed and trained cop on the streets. Of course that wouldn’t work in larger cities but it worked fine in Mapleton.

It was because of Red’s insistence that we got some more cops on staff. Of course we were still short-handed but I think that’s true of every police department in the world.

Red O’Hara was a cop’s cop. He was always right there in the trenches with the rest of us. I honestly don’t know when he slept. He was as likely to show up on a crime scene at two o’clock in the morning as two o’clock in the afternoon. That was why it didn’t shock me when he came to my office shortly after the headless body was discovered.

“Tell me something, Heck,” he said arranging his considerable bulk in my visitor’s chair. “What do you know about that body that turned up?”

“Almost but not quite nothing, Chief,” I answered. “So far we don’t know who he was. From his clothing, we deduced he wasn’t a homeless person. Nothing has shown up on the missing person’s reports. Di is covering the autopsy this afternoon so maybe that will give us a clue.”

“I see,” he said after digesting what I said. “Somebody will miss him sooner or later I guess. What’s going on with that home invasion last night?”

“Same as before. Two men wearing ski masks forced their way into a home. While one kept the residents covered, the other one took the goodies. Last night they took some jewelry, the cash on hand, and a gold coin collection valued at over fifty thousand dollars.”

“I see,” he said again. “That makes three invasions?”

“No, it makes four and they have all been almost alike. They get in and out quickly taking only portable valuables. So far no one has been hurt but that can’t last. Sooner or later a homeowner will fight and someone will get hurt.”

“Weapons always the same?” he asked. I knew he knew the answer because he read every report that came in from the field.

“Yes, each of them carried automatic pistols. From the descriptions we’ve got we’re guessing Glock. Di says they are wild Glocks.”

“What in the world is a wild Glock?”

“According to Di they are carrying Glock 23s that have been modified,” I said. “I don’t usually make it a habit to question her but in this case she is postulating on sketchy information. None of the victims has any great handgun knowledge so their description is questionable. What I find interesting is the fact in every case they seem to know where valuables are located. In the first case they took a stamp collection that is valued well over sixty thousand dollars. The stamps were hidden in a den behind a false set of books. In the second case, they boosted some antique jewelry. That jewelry was in a wall safe. They convinced the owner, a single elderly woman, to open the safe by putting the gun barrel in her mouth.”

“That is good incentive to do as you are told,” Red commented. “They are making a pretty good living, aren’t they?”

“Yes, if they have somewhere to sell the stamps, jewelry, and gold. They took some negotiable bonds at one location. It seems to me that sort of things requires a specialized fence. Most fences wouldn’t know what to do with bearer bonds or rare antique jewelry or rare stamps. Gold coins would be fairly easy to get rid of.”

“Yeah, gold doesn’t have serial numbers. Are you looking at anyone for the robberies?”

“No, not specifically. There are several men around town that are capable of doing the jobs but I don’t have any good suspects. So far all we know is one is white, medium height, medium weight, and medium everything. The other one is also white but smaller than the first. No one noticed anything unusual about their speech or the way they move. Actually his speech. Only one, the larger one, has ever spoken but he didn’t have any discernable accent. They both wear gloves and as far as we can determine they’ve never left any forensic evidence.”

“Okay, but just so you know the city council is getting heated up over the home invasions. I would like to tell them you are closing in on the culprits.”

“Sure, go on ahead and tell them that. It’s a big fat lie, but it will make them feel better.” He gave me a look and left me to ponder the crimes.

 

Chapter 3

 

“Good afternoon, my Chief,” Di said. We met at the coffee maker in the break room. The break room also served as squad room, planning room, and sometimes an office. “I have just this very minute returned from the autopsy that you were too chicken to attend.”

“So tell me, very junior detective Grover, what did you learn there?”

“I discovered that the victim is dead,” she said stirring four spoons of sugar in her coffee making it nearly syrup. I waited because I knew she was about to make a revelation of some kind. I knew that smug look. “I also discovered that an autopsy wasn’t necessary.”

“I think that needs some clarification.”

“He had already been opened,” she said. “Doc said that he had been autopsied, organs bagged, and sewed up again. His blood had been drained and he was full of embalming fluid.”

“Embalming fluid? You mean formaldehyde?”

“Yes, a mixture of formaldehyde, methanol, ethanol, and a few other chemicals. Most of the chemicals had leaked out because the head and hands were removed, but some was still there. Enough fluid to determine that it’s commercial grade. That body was prepared for burial by a funeral home.”

“You’re kidding!” I said trying to get my head around her news. “You would think that someone would notice a missing corpse and make a report.”

“You would think so. The doc found a large tattoo on the man’s upper arm. A bulldog wearing a helmet and smoking a cigar.”

“A Marine or more likely a veteran of the Corp,” I said. “What else do you have?”

“Not much. Did you know there is no a missing body list anywhere?”

“I did not know that. Probably not a lot of need for one. It’s obvious that someone didn’t want the body identified and I wonder why.”

“I wonder that and I also wonder why someone went to the trouble of putting expensive Italian loafers on a corpse. Bodies are not usually buried with shoes on, are they?” she asked me.

“I guess I haven’t given it any thought. It stands to reason that at some point, some place, someone knew who he was. I mean he was prepared for burial so that indicates…something.”

“Well said, Heck,” Di said. As she spoke she eyed a dough-nut carton on the table. She causally flipped the lid open and we both saw one lone doughnut. It was a jelly-filled work of art from Krispy-Kreme’s kitchen. Save your breath. I have heard all the jokes and quips about cops and dough-nuts. Cops do like doughnuts but who doesn’t?

“Seems someone left a doughnut,” I observed while moving into snatching range. Di countered my move with a move of her own.

“Only one, Chief,” she said unnecessarily. ”I wonder why they left only one.”

“Someone wanted to sow the seeds of contention,” I said taking a half step closer. “I didn’t have lunch today.”

“Me either,” she countered. “A real gentleman would yield any claim he might erroneously have on the lone pastry.”

“Yeah, makes me glad I’m not a real gentleman,” I said. She was beginning to piss me off but in an effort to be fair I offered to flip a coin for it.

“I have a better idea,” she said. “Let’s wrestle for it.” That was not a better idea and she damned well knew it. While engaging a young attractive woman in that sort of event might be fun, I knew it wouldn’t be fun with Di. Back when we dated, she once talked me into a friendly wrestling match. Diane Grover processed several belts of various colors from five or six martial arts. She also was incredibly quick and extraordinarily strong. Yes, if you must know, she beat me.

“Don’t even think about it!” yelled Dupree Oliver rushing in to snatch the last of the doughnuts. “This is mine.”

“Who said?” Di demanded. Dupree Oliver was one of the newer officers Red had hired away from a neighboring city.

“I did,” Dupree replied. “I bought it and it’s mine.” Ownership of the stray pastry was firmly established when he took a huge bite. Di’s shoulders slumped in defeat but I smiled when raspberry jelly squirted out and down onto his uniform shirt. The fool had a lot to learn about eating jelly or cream filled doughnuts. The first bite is always at the fill hole. I turned and walked out of the break room to hide my smile of satisfaction from Dupree. It had served him right but it was tacky of me to show him that I thought so.

“Where are you going, Heck?” Di asked hurrying to catch up with me. “You are going to the doughnut shop, aren’t you?”

“I am,” I informed her. “You should get busy on all that paperwork you’ve been neglecting, Detective Grover.”

“Bring me a lemon and a strawberry filled,” she called to my back. I told her in no uncertain terms that I would not be her delivery boy. She didn’t respond because she knew I would bring her back what she ordered.