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Author's Chapter Notes:

So very sorry for the delay, and having to stretch chapter 3 out. I had to break from my schedule for a bit there. Hopefully this will make up for it.




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


 

 

I awoke to the sound of banging pots and sunny voices coming from the front of the house. Groaning, I buried my face in the pillow and pulled my blanket tightly over my head. I was nowhere near ready to get up. I hadn’t gotten to sleep until almost dawn because I’d been reading follow-up cards, trying to re-work matches that didn’t quite pan out, and brainstorming first date ideas for more promising couples. The ‘Meet Your Match’ event may have been a small success in and of itself, but having a few happy couples under my belt would definitely make life easier around the office. I had total faith in my ability to read people; unfortunately I was the only one who did.

“Wakey, wakey! Eggs and bakey!” Leigha burst into my room, much more perky and chipper than the law should allow. “Come on, sleepy head. You promised to help me at the shop today.”

The shop was a small clothing consignment boutique that she inherited from her great-aunt. It wasn’t so much an inheritance as it was the one thing that no one else in the family wanted to take over after the aged, eccentric woman died. Most weekends I didn’t mind lending a hand. It was preferable to sitting in an empty house trying to figure out what to do with myself, only to find that I’d spent the entire day trying to decide on what to do. It was a rather dull existence.

“I changed my mind,” I mumbled. Instead of arguing, Leigha set my favorite mug, filled with coffee, down on the nightstand.

“We’re leaving in thirty minutes.” At that, the door slammed. I’d have to rethink volunteering myself as free labor on Saturday mornings. I couldn’t have dragged myself out of bed even if I wanted to. She’d have to do without me today.

“Nik!” I threw the blanket off, and shot up. “Good, you’re up.” Realizing that she wasn’t going to leave me alone, I dropped my feet to the floor and slumped over the side of the bed.

“You tricked me!”

“Of course I did. You’d have never gotten up otherwise,” Leigha opened my closet and began rummaging around. “Good grief, Nikki, your closet is depressing. How could I have not known you were this bad off?” She stepped out, holding my favorite ‘I don’t care’ outfit – an old pair of paint-splattered men’s camouflage pants and a threadbare white V-neck T-shirt. I’d usually pair it with some flip flops or sandals. In fact, I had been thinking of putting on those very clothes.

“So, I guess I won’t be wearing that?”

“Are you kidding me? One look at you and I’ll have people walking right out the door.” Judging by the woman’s outfit, if I let her pick my outfit I would be very uncomfortable. Leigha had on a sheer baby pink lace tank top layered over a coral camisole, paired with cuffed white skinny jeans. She also had on four inch wedge sandals. I rolled my eyes to the ceiling.

“I promise not to dress like a painter. Now will you get out, please?” I not so gently frog-marched her out of my room and slammed the door shut. Returning to my closet I pulled out the only thing I knew Leigha would approve of, my yellow cotton eyelet strapless dress and gold sandals. All this so I could sit behind a counter for six hours helping women spend money they didn’t have.

I took off my pajamas and left them in a puddle at my feet. I gathered up my clothes for the day and stepped behind my dressing screen. I didn’t need Leigha walking in on me while I was changing. Not that I had a problem with nudity, but I didn’t want to put myself on display. Once fully clothed, I came out from the privacy of the screen and turned to the mirror to fix my hair. A little spritz, a silk scarf, and a shake was all it took to look halfway decent.

Finally ready to join the rest of the world, I grabbed my now cold coffee and followed the smell of bacon and toast into the kitchen. Leigha was finishing up and watching a special news report.

“Have you heard about this,” she asked pointing to the television screen. I glanced up from the English muffin I was buttering.

“Those are the women found on the beach, right?” The whole island had heard about it. It was the hot topic at last night’s event – after stock dividends, beach houses, cars, and yachts. “Do they know who did it?”

“No, but we don’t exactly have Sherlock Holmes on the case.”

I took a bite of my muffin. “The paper said there was nothing left behind with the bodies. Just the veils”

“Hmm. I told you this island was creepy.”

“They weren’t found on the island,” I corrected as I finished my bacon and refilled my coffee cup.

“Whatever. Doesn’t make it less creepy.” Leigha turned off the television and grabbed her purse. “Ready? There’s a woman coming by early to drop off some things from an estate sale.”

“Yes, boss.”

 

On a normal weekday morning, the drive from our house to Leigha’s shop would take five minutes, eight at the max.  Thanks to all of the weekend beach-goers and boaters, it took us close to half an hour to get to the store and find a parking spot. We ended up four blocks up the street and around the corner.

“We should have just walked here,” Leigha huffed as we hurried our way down the street.

“I said that before we left.” I hiked my dress up for the sixth time. I was missing my camo pants and dollar store flip-flops. Leigha didn’t respond. She was too busy grinning and waving at the middle-aged woman waiting for us on the bench by the front door. The two women greeted each other and walked inside, too busy discussing vintage dresses and designer hand bags to notice that I hadn’t followed them. I was distracted by the smell of freshly made pastries coming from across the street.

The bell above the bakery door announced my entrance to those already inside to into the bakery. I saw a few familiar faces – the gardening society meeting for tea and scones, the gentleman who ran the ferry, a few moms with their babies. Everyone else was there on holiday.

“I thought I’d be able to pull you in here today,” the friendly voice behind the counter greeted me.

“It’s your fault I look like this, you know,” I teased. “What do you have today, Sam?” The older woman wiped her hands on her icing stained apron and beckoned me to one of the side display cases. My waistline hated me for it, but Sam was one of the first people on the island to welcome me and Leigha after we moved. She was our surrogate grandmother, and we both loved her and her baked goods.

“No man can resist a woman with curves, you should be thanking me.” Sam reached down for one of her giant Gooey Ooey Buns. “Eat this, and they’ll come running!”

Taking the sweet treat, I moved over to the register to pay, “If you say so, Miss Sam.”

“Don’t forget to enter the contest,” the girl behind the counter said to me as she handed me my change. “Put your card in the bowl, and if you win you get a twenty dollar gift certificate.”

“Right,” I chuckled, “because more carbs is exactly what I need.” My comment was clearly lost on the girl, as her apron was in a desperate struggle to remain on her barely-there hips. She just smiled and shrugged. I groped around in my bag and found a business card.

#

Quinn stared blankly at the victim board, silently willing the answers to come. Five women smiled back at him. They were the pictures that the families had provided when the women were first reported missing. Beside them, the crime photo painted a more somber, but eerily beautiful image. The first, Sasha McKay, was a student and part time sales clerk at a men’s clothing store. Her sister reported her missing after she hadn’t come home one night. Two days later, a jogger found her body on the beach.

                It was his first case after joining the department. Quinn wasn’t too sure of what he’d find in South Port, but a serial killer amongst the yacht and country club members was last on his list. This was supposed to be a cake assignment. Now he was buried under over a year’s worth of interviews, empty leads and weekly calls from crackpot psychics.

                “Heads up, Quinn,” an officer called out. Quinn looked over to see the crime tech making his way across the bull pen. Quinn spun in his chair away to watch the kid approach. The excited look on his face must have meant they’d finally have something solid to work with.

                “Karl, the crime tech. I’m going to guess you’ve got something for me?”

                “I was able to figure out some more about the veils that were used to cover the victims. I may have even narrowed down the cause of death.”

                “We already know how they died,” Marconi said around a mouth full of apple. A small piece of chewed fruit flew out of his mouth and onto Quinn’s keyboard.  “They stopped breathing.”

                “Actually, you only know part of how the women died. I think it’s more than that.”

                “Okay,” Quinn interrupted, “let’s talk about the veils first. What else do you know?”

                Karl fanned out the pictures of all five veils on the desk. They were all sheer, delicate, and had a floral design along the edges.

                “At first, I said that they were all about eighty years old. I was able to test the thread used, and the oldest, the first one found, is about one hundred. The fifth veil is the newest, at around seventy years old. The three in the middle are all sequential.”

                Marconi picked up one of the pictures and frowned at it. “Why use some old tablecloth, why not a blanket or something? You can see straight through this stuff.” He tossed the image back on the desk, sending it sliding into the others.

                “They aren’t tablecloths. They’re vintage hand stitched wedding veils. These things cost a fortune!” Quinn raised his eyebrows in question at the tech’s offended reaction.

                “Don’t take it personally, Karl,” he teased.

                “It’s just that, if they were tablecloths it would mean something totally different. These women weren’t just killed and dumped.”

                “What else is there? Some guy grabs women, holds them for a while, gets bored and kills them. Then he lays them out naked in public. Sounds like your run of the mill psycho to me.”

                That was the same question that had been running through Quinn’s head. What else was there? What was he missing? The serial rape and murder story didn’t fit. It hadn’t set right with Quinn, even in the beginning.

                “What are you thinking, Karl?” Quinn didn’t want to be the one to admit that the person they were after wasn’t just a crazed killer.

                “The veils, wedding veils, are all very elaborate and very expensive.”

                “So he’s got money,” Marco added.

                “That or he already had them. Either way, someone stored them in a controlled environment. They don’t have a musty mildew smell, there’s minimal staining, and no damage from insects.”     

                “Something that special, you don’t throw out like Marco’s holey socks.”

                “Hey!” Marconi snapped to attention. “My woman takes care of me. None of my socks have holes.”

                “I thought you lived with your mother,” Quinn shot back.

                Karl huffed, clearly irritated that the two men in front of him were no longer focused on him. “Can we please finish? I have a lab to get back to.”

                “Alright. What about COD?”

                “Well, based on the autopsy report, there were no obvious, outward signs of trauma. No bruising or abrasions on the skin. Something else stopped those women from breathing. My guess would be a kind of poison or toxin.”

                “How’s he give it to ‘em?” Marconi’s mouth was full of food again. Quinn looked over his shoulder to see that this time he was eating a bag of chips.

                “There weren’t any puncture holes on the body. And I’m only guessing, because there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary that showed up in the blood work done.”

                Quinn hauled himself out of his chair, and pulled his gun out of his desk drawer. “You get started on those tests. We’ll need all five women looked at.”

                “Are we going somewhere?” Marconi looked disappointed.

                “Well, I didn’t want to interrupt snack time, so I thought I’d visit a few antique stores and bridal shops. You know, see if anyone’s seen this kind of veil before. There can’t be many people roaming about sewing expensive lace for fun.” Quinn nodded his head at Karl, who had decided to take that moment to leave.

                “What about me? Chief said we have to work together.”

                “Oh I remember. But he never said anything about you being a second shadow. I had all the old case files pulled. You start going through those, get familiar with the first four victims. There has to be something that they all had in common.”

                “I’m not some rookie cop you can push around. I know how to close cases.” Quinn chuckled and shook his head. Marconi’s attempt at asserting himself drew a few curious glances from the other officers in the room.

                “Good to know, Marco. Maybe you can do that now, by looking through the old stuff,” Quinn let a box crash down on Marconi’s desk. “Let me know when you find something.” With that, he calmly turned and walked away.

 






Chapter End Notes:

Every now and then, some normal stuff has to happen in order for the really good stuff to come into play.. As always thanks for reading! Reviews, comments, and constructive critiques are more than welcome :)







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.