Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best thriller books to read .txt) 📕

“So he’s mad at Lynda. He thinks it’s her fault his best pal walked out on him. He takes her away somewhere. They do some kind of crazy, satanic ritual. He kills her and takes the arms to what he thinks is Hank’s lockup. The arms are a crazy symbol of sorts. Brothers-in-arms. Arms of friendship. Whatever. But he makes a mistake and puts them in the wrong lockup. Not a serial killer, but a crazy.”

“Something like that is a distinct possibility. What about you?”

She grabbed her hair and tied it in a big knot behind her neck. It was a very feminine action that was strangely at odds with the image she usually cultivated.

“I met Dave—David Hansen. He’s the overall sales manager of Global Computer Sales. Twelve years ago, he was what I guess you’d call a shipping clerk. The company operates mainly online selling refurbished computers, hardware, and software. You buy it online from their website, they ship it to you.”

“That’s why they need the lockups—to store the computers.”

She nodded. Thunder rolled in the distance. There was a steady slapping sound from water spilling from a gutter in the garden.

“The guy has an eidetic memory. He remembered the case. He was there that Monday, collecting some computers. He remembered the cops asking him a few questions, but he had nothing to tell them except that he owned the units opposite.”

“So…?”

“So I remembered some details of the general profile you described, of the organized killer. Dave told me he followed the case in the papers and on the news for the next few days and was disappointed when it just fizzled out and no arrests were made. I asked him if he knew who the lockup belonged to. He said he had met him briefly and sold him some computers. The guy has a real problem with interpersonal skills, especially with women. Zero eye contact, speaks real quiet, like he’s talking through clenched teeth, and I get the impression he is pretty OCD. His office and his desk were not just neat. Everything was regimented and organized according to shape, size, and color.”

“It’s not much to go on.”

“I’m not done. I asked him where he was that weekend, the third and fourth. He said he was away at an IT conference in Los Angeles. He’s a computer nerd and attends conferences on a regular basis. He lives with his mother. There’s more…”

“Okay.”

“I decided to do a background check to see if he had any priors.”

“He has?”

“He’s been arrested on three occasions for downloading child pornography. On each occasion he denied it and was released because they couldn’t find the material on any of his computers.”

I slumped back in my chair. “Nero Wolfe had too many clients, and we have too many suspects. Though child pornography does not of itself suggest he’s a serial killer.”

She shook her head. “I know that. But it is a coincidence that he displays a number of the characteristics often displayed by serial killers, and his company owns the units opposite Peter’s.”

“Yes.”

I stood and started clearing the plates while she tipped her mug this way and that, watching the cold coffee stay on a level plane from every angle. I started washing.

“We have Peter. Evidence against him, such as it is, is that he displays misogynistic behavior toward his wife, he owns the lockup where the arms were found, and twelve years ago he had a job that would have enabled him to commit murders in several states. Not a lot, really.”

She stood, grabbed a tea towel, and started drying what I had washed. “Hank had a girlfriend who might fit the description of the owner of the arms. Had the unit next to Peter’s and has a rap sheet including violence against women. His girlfriend may have gone missing at the time the arms showed up.”

I handed her a wet plate. “We need to get on to that. We need to find where Lynda is. That is a job for today.” I continued where she had left off. “Zak. Crazy as a box of frogs knitting wool bikinis. A disciple of Aleister Crowley, a Hell’s Angel, so no stranger to violence, a self-declared misogynist with a possible serious grudge against Lynda.”

I noticed absently that she had put everything away in the right place. As she closed the cupboard where she had placed the plate, she rounded off, “Dave, nerd supreme, OCD, lives with his mother, his company owns all the units opposite Peter’s, he is and was at the time of the murder frequently away at IT conferences. He turned up on the morning the arms were found, followed the case with interest, and was, quote, ‘disappointed that it fizzled out.’”

“We need to check on that conference.”

“I did. It was real, but there was no way to check if he was there.”

We stared at each other for a long moment, holding each other’s eye. It was something we had got into the habit of doing. Finally, she said, “So what now, boss man?”

“Our number one priority right now is to establish whether the arms belong to Lynda, whether Lynda is dead or alive. So I want you on that right away.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to check missing persons for twelve years ago, plus a year either side, girls in their early twenties, pretty, blonde. I’m also going to check for reports of dismembered bodies, coast to coast.”

As it was, I didn’t get very far. We got to the precinct at eight thirty, and at ten fifteen Dehan put down the phone and said, “I found her parents.”

“Already?”

“Holly isn’t a very common name. I used the phone book, just the way you taught me, Sensei.” She stood, slipping her arms into her jacket. “And you know what? That paper…” She inhaled