Body Count Read online

  Body Count

  A

  Savannah Hartman Mystery

  By: Lisa D. Jones

  To my good buddy, Benji Allen:

  Thank you for allowing me to include you in this book. I truly love listening to you sing. You have an amazing voice, my friend!

  Chapter 1:

  “A Nose for Mishaps”

  My name is Savannah Hartman. I’m not a cop. I’m not a bounty hunter. I’m a private detective. I’d like to say that I’m the best in the business, but that would just be a complete and total crock of shit. The truth is that I’m just really, really, really lucky.

  I have two employees: computer guru, Keith Whitman and my office manager, Claudia Holbrook. They are the “behind the scenes work force” for Silver Leaf Investigations. I’m more like the glorified photographer that takes all the risks and drinks a hell of a lot of coffee.

  Keith is a master of all things electronic, but when it comes to actual field work, he doesn’t know jack shit. He’s about 5’9” with short, light blondish-brown hair and shit brown eyes. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he’s wearing his thin rimmed glasses and a baseball cap of my favorite team, The Texas Lone Stars.

  Claudia handles all of the paperwork. Without her, I’d have to talk to all of these idiots – errrr, I mean, clients, by myself. Since I really don’t like people in general, I’m pretty sure that would be an absolutely rotten idea for business.

  When I first opened my office here in Hopeville, Keith was the first (and only) one to apply for the computer/researcher job position. A few days later, he introduced me to Claudia. I hired on the spot the second she told me that she could type faster than my two words per minute.

  Claudia is only about two inches shorter than Keith but seems to tower over him when she wears her four inch heels. He likes it when she wears her long, strawberry blond hair down. Of course, if he’s being a jackass (which is most of the time) she’ll pull it up into a pony tail just to aggravate the living hell out of him, like today. It’s the little things in life that amuse me the most. They bought a house last year. How she hasn’t killed him in his sleep in the ten years they’ve been together, I’ll never know.

  “Todd called”, said Claudia. “He wants you to come out to his office as soon as you showed up today. Said he wants to discuss some case files and he may or may not have a bone to pick with you.”

  I nodded.

  If he has a “bone to pick” with me, most likely it’s an incident from a few days ago concerning a man by the name of Howard Rhodes, the assistant to the Assistant District Attorney. Basically, he’s a glorified gopher that thinks he’s worth far more in the legal world than he ever actually could be. He’s far too arrogant to believe that anyone else might ever have the correct answer.

  Rhodes has always seen himself as witty, charming, and God’s-gift-to-women. In reality, he’s just an unattractive, idiot ass-hat that I’d love to hit in the face. Repeatedly. With a brick.

  A few days ago, Rhodes was in Sheriff Nate Russell’s office complaining to Jolynn Baker, Hope County’s secretary, receptionist, and the 911 dispatcher. She’s 5’3” with a healthy, slender figure, and fiery red hair. She’s in her late forties, but you’d never know it.

  I’m pretty sure Nate has a thing for her, along with most of the other men in town. She’s a pretty woman, but she’s never taken any bullshit. So, of course, Rhodes complaining about anything to her was a complete and total waste of time. She can’t stand him any more than I can. Lucky for her, she has the uncanny ability to completely tune out blubbering dipshits.

  The sheriff didn’t kiss his ass like Rhodes had expected him to. This certainly didn’t come as a surprise to me or Jolynn. Nate’s never been one to accept unwanted and unwarranted criticism about how he does his job from anyone – especially not from someone that really doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.

  When I walked in, Nate looked like he was about to blow a gasket. Jolynn was ignoring Rhodes the best she could manage and that wasn’t saying much. She wrote the words “DIE IDIOT DIE” over and over on a pad of paper on her desk, digging the pen in deep and tearing through most of the pages.

  I quietly turned around, hoping to sneak out before anyone saw me, but I wasn’t fast enough.

  “And YOU, Miss Hartman, YOU have NO business working as a private detective! We ALL know that women should ONLY be nurses, secretaries, school lunch ladies, stewardesses, and teachers!” screamed Rhodes.

  At first, I couldn’t believe that he had said that to me then remembered what a complete and total MORON he is. DIE IDIOT DIE! For obvious reasons, his mini rant didn’t go over very well with me so I let him have it, full force.

  “Listen here, you limp-dick chauvinistic son of a bitch. Your 1940’s point of view of how American women should be in today’s society is as far from reality as you thinking you’re some kind of a ladies man! You are nothing but a glorified pencil-neck-weasel-looking-paper-pushing-gopher-dick! You come in here making a total fool of yourself, pissing off all of the people in this town that COULD help you then YOU have the audacity to tell ME that I have no business working as a private detective because I’m female? Let me tell you a thing or two. You picked the WRONG woman to run your mouth to! I am damn sure NOT someone who is willing to take any shit from the likes of you!”

  “Mmm I like feisty women”, said Rhodes with a smirk.

  I shuddered and grimaced at the same time, trying not to vomit at the thought of him attempting to flirt with me.

  He leaned over in my direction and said, “We both know you want me. Why don’t you meet me at my place in an hour?”

  Before I could stop myself, all of my anger and hatred for this idiot skyrocketed to the surface and I punched him. The blood gushed out, running down his palms and onto his sleeves. In a broken version of the English language, he screamed, “Sheriff, are you just going to sthand there?? DO YOUR THOB AND AWWEST HER!!”

  Nate just gave a sly smile and asked, “Arrest her for what?”

  Rhodes was flabbergasted! “What the hell do you mean awwest her for what? Awwest her for ASSAULTH! You just STHAW her do it!”

  Nate straightened up his stance and tipped back his cowboy hat. He crossed his arms then in a calm, quiet voice said, “Mr. Rhodes, from what I just saw, you turned to leave my office, tripped, and fell. It was merely an unfortunate circumstance that you just happened to land square on your nose in the middle of my concrete floor. That’s what I saw, Mr. Rhodes.”

  “Hmm, what a coincidence”, said Jolynn never taking her eyes or pen from the paper. “I saw the exact same thing.” DIE IDIOT DIE!

  “You should probably go get that checked out”, I said, giggling. “It looks like it might sting a little.”

  Chapter 2:

  “avoidance is key”

  It was a quarter to noon when I arrived at my office. Claudia took one look at me and said I looked like shit that had been run over by a tractor a few times then thrown into the ceiling fan.

  “Yeah, I was up most of the night. I heard coyotes and thought they had gotten a hold of some of my chickens again, but it wasn’t my chickens.”

  “One of the baby goats?” asked Claudia.

  “No - human torso.”

  Claudia grimaced.

  “Savannah, how many times do I have to tell you that you have to bury your ex-boyfriends on someone ELSE’S property?” asked Keith, sarcastically.

  “Please tell me it wasn’t anyone we know.” pleaded Claudia, ignoring Keith.

  I shrugged and shook my head.

  “Not sure yet. Nate said he’d let me know. He’ll probably want us to investigate it for him. You know how he hates this kind of stuff”, I said.

  “You mean work?” asked Keith.

/>   “Exactly”, I said. “I need coffee. Y’all want any?”

  “No, we’re good”, said Claudia as she held up her disposable cup from Babe’s Coffee Shop.

  “Speak for yourself”, said Keith. “I could use another.”

  Claudia slightly rolled her eyes and proceeded to go back to work.

  “Now what?” he asked, aggravated.

  “Aaaaand that would be my cue to leave. Exit, stage left”, I said. “If Todd calls, tell him I’m on my way.”

  “Are you forgetting that Rhodes has a 2:30 appointment with you, which means he’ll be here at noon, irritating the living shit out of us?” asked Claudia as I turned to leave.

  “No, I didn’t forget, but that’s exactly why I’m leaving. I’m in no mood for his sorry, idiotic ass. What does he want and why in the hell would you make an appointment with me for him anyway?” I asked. “You KNOW I’ll do whatever it takes to avoid him. Besides, when the new district attorney calls and wants me to come to his office, I’m going to his office.”

  “Don’t use Todd’s new job as an excuse to avoid Rhodes. You avoided him when Todd was working on the other side as the best defense attorney in the state. Rhodes wouldn’t say what he wants. I made the appointment for him because you KNOW he was NOT going to go away until I did”, said Claudia. “You don’t pay us enough to deal with his kind of shit.”

  “Fine, but I still won’t be here”, I said.

  “When?” asked Keith.

  “Anytime that I know Rhodes will be in my office.”

  “Sooo, you’re just going to make me and Claudia have to deal with him?

  I sighed and said, “Look, if you see him in time, just lock the door and pretend that y’all aren’t here.”

  “That would be great except it would never work”, replied Keith, “He’d still see us, you know, with the glass doors and all.”

  “And your point would be?” I asked.

  “No point”, said Keith. “I just don’t like the irritating son of a bitch.”

  “You and everyone else on the planet”, said Claudia.

  “Okay, I’m going to Babe’s then heading on to Todd’s office.”

  “Which in Savannah language means we’ll see you tomorrow”, said Claudia with a sigh.

  “Exactly”, I said. “Oh - and Keith? Get your own damn coffee.”

  I smiled then picked up my purse and phone from my desk. I grabbed my gun, checked to make sure the magazine was full and headed out the door.

  My office is just down the street from a lot of things. Well, that is, down the street from what would be considered a lot of things to a small town like Hopeville, Texas. Hell all that really mattered to me was that Babe’s Coffee Shop was in walking distance.

  Babe, his daughter Callie, and his nephew, Evan, run the place. Since I first opened my office nearly eight years ago, I’ve spent almost every morning at Babe’s. Sometimes I’d be there just long enough to get the coffee and literally (well almost literally) run back to my office or off to work on a case. Other times, I’d just sit and hang out - especially if there was someone sitting in my office that I would rather avoid.

  These days, Babe tends to spend more time sitting at one of his indoor bistro tables talking to customers than running the shop. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be physically running things, mind you. It’s that he’s still recovering from the severe injuries he received six months ago from Louie Porter (my most recent murderous, cold-hearted, psycho stalker).

  That crazy lunatic stalked me, kidnapped my best friends Wendy and Jessica, beat Babe Morgan to within an inch of his life then kidnapped me and overall made my life a living hell.

  I was doing my best to avoid being anywhere near my office because of Howard Rhodes. Rhodes was a man worth avoiding at ALL costs. He is probably-no, he is definitely the single most annoying man I have EVER had the misfortune of meeting.

  By the time I got my coffee and my bag filled with a bear claw and a jalapeño and cheddar sausage roll, it was twenty minutes past noon.

  And Claudia was right. Rhodes showed up at noon for his two-thirty appointment, just like she thought he would. He wanted to make sure I’d be there (a lot of good THAT did him). I only knew he was there because of the multitudes of text messages I had received from both Claudia and Keith, each announcing the douchebag’s arrival and cursing the day I was born.

  The only thing stopping me from leaving for Todd’s office was the fact that my car was parked right outside of my office. After a brief conversation about my Rhodes dilemma, Evan offered to sneak down and get my car for me. I agreed and tipped him twenty bucks for the inconvenience.

  Chapter 3:

  “For Savannah”

  IT ONLY TAKES a minute or two to walk down to Babe’s from my office, but travelling to Todd’s is a completely different story. His building is located in downtown Dallas, a few hours from Hopeville.

  His office is on the seventh floor, so I always use the elevator when I come out here to collect the latest stack of files and/or the next paycheck from him. I seem to have a slight tendency to fall down stairs (with or without help from psychotic stalking maniacs), so I avoid them like the plague whenever humanly possible.

  I’m not that fond of elevators either as of late, thanks to Louie Porter. Six months ago, Louie had managed to stop the elevator while I was inside it then pried the doors open while threatening my life in a not-so-subtle manner.

  I used to go to Todd’s office after hours, but since that elevator run-in with Louie, the thought of doing that now just scares the absolute living shit out of me. I’d never tell anyone, but I’m still not that comfortable walking through his empty office building all alone. Half the time, I have one hand on my gun and the other on my mace. I haven’t had a reason to use them as of yet, but I’m not giving up hope.

  The security guard for the building where Todd’s office is located is a tall, lanky, older gentleman named Max. He’s the nicest man you could ever meet, unless you manage to piss him off. He’s surprisingly accurate for a man his age, whether it’s shooting you with a pistol or throwing a projectile of his choosing.

  “Miss Savannah!” exclaimed Max. “It’s so good to see you again!”

  “It’s good to see you too, Max.”

  “I’ll call Mr. Wakefield and let him know you’re on your way up.”

  I thanked him and headed for the elevator.

  When I stepped into Todd’s office, he was sitting at his desk. Two other men were in the room, sitting in the only available chairs. I didn’t know who they were or why there were here during my meeting time with Todd, but I was pretty sure I was about to find out. Todd stood up and offered me his chair.

  “If this is about Rhodes, I may or may not have witnessed him hitting his face on the floor”, I said.

  Todd shook his head.

  “It has nothing to do with him. Honestly, I only care about him when he’s bringing me coffee or food. Howard Rhodes isn’t why we wanted to talk to you. Gentlemen, this is Savannah Hartman. Savannah, this is Agent Ron Loughlin of the FBI and Dallas police chief, Bill Reynolds.”

  Loughlin nodded in my general direction, but otherwise did not move. Chief Reynolds, on the other hand, stood up, tipped his cowboy hat, and said, “Ma’am” before returning to his seat.

  Loughlin looked like the stereotypical Hollywood version of an FBI agent. He had slicked back dark hair, sunglasses, and a dark suit. He looked to be in his early to mid-forties, slender build, and medium height.

  Chief Reynolds, on the other hand, looked a lot more natural. He was wearing denim jeans, boots, his light blue button-up long sleeve shirt, and of course, his cream colored, woven cowboy hat with a dark leather band.

  “Miss Hartman”, said Chief Reynolds. “Are you aware of a recent string of violent murders in the Dallas/Fort Worth area?”

  “No. That isn’t in my job description.”

  “Just answer the question”, barked Loughlin.

  I put my han
ds on my hips, looked directly at Loughlin, and said, “Listen here, princess-“

  “Miss Hartman, please excuse Agent Loughlin’s rudeness”, said Chief Reynolds, politely cutting me off. “There’s something you need to see.”

  He handed me an evidence bag with an envelope inside. “For Savannah” was written on the outside of the envelope. There was a daisy with the stem still attached taped just underneath where the words were written.

  “Chief Reynolds, what exactly is this about?”

  “Open the envelope and read the card”, said Todd.

  All three men seemed very serious. None of them had even the hint of a smile. I opened the unsealed evidence bag and removed the envelope.

  The inside of the card read, “Heads or tails, Savannah Hartman?”

  “This was found on the body of Tom Norton last night. It was sticking out of his shirt pocket”, said the chief.

  “Savannah, have you had any cases involving Mr. Norton?” asked Todd.

  “The name doesn’t sound familiar, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’ll check with Claudia and have her look it up to be sure.”

  “Let me know as soon as possible”, said Todd. “And this wasn’t the first murder with a card addressed to you on the body.”

  “How many more are there?” I asked, “And why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?”

  “Because the bodies have all been showing up over the past 22 hours in Dallas, Johnson, and Van Zandt counties. When the fourth one, Mr. Norton, showed up in Hope County, I arranged this meeting”, said Todd, gesturing towards everyone in the room.

  “Miss Hartman, it boils down to this: we have a serial killer on our hands”, said Agent Loughlin, “and he or she is fixated on YOU.”

  Chapter 4:

  “Dancing Monkeys”

  I MET ZACH COLE on my first day of the 7th grade. He was standing by his locker with his buddies Parker Jensen and Wade Patterson. They were your average, every-day strong-as-an-ox-southern-redneck-country-boys.