The smile fell away. “Right, my answer is no.”
“Is she from around here? Who made the ID?”
Southern placed his arms over his chest. “Once I put her face back on somebody from the police department recognized her.”
The door opened at that moment and a man around Jamison’s age walked in. He wore jeans, scuffed tasseled loafers, a checkered shirt, and a navy blue sport coat. He was about six feet tall, lean and wiry with a knot of an Adam’s apple and a classic lantern jaw. His hair was dark brown and thick, and a cowlick stuck up in the back like a periscope.
He looked first at Decker and then at Jamison. “Lieutenant Joe Kelly with the London Police Department,” he said by way of introduction.
“He’s the one I called,” said Southern.
Kelly nodded. “I’m with the Detective Division. Sounds impressive until you understand I’m the only one.”
“The only one working homicide, you mean?” said Decker.
“Homicide, burglary, armed robbery, domestic abuse, human trafficking, drugs, and I forget the others.”
“Quite the one-man show,” remarked a wide-eyed Jamison.
“It’s not by choice. It’s by budget dollars. We doubled the size of the force after the last oil bust went boom again, but it hasn’t caught up to detective level yet. Just uniformed bodies on the streets and in the police cruisers. They’ll get around to promoting a uniform to detective about the time the next bust comes along and we all get fired.” He stared up at Decker. “They grow all of them as big as you at the FBI?”
“Yeah, sure. But the other guys wear shiny armor. I like my denim.”
Kelly took a moment to show them his credentials, and they reciprocated. Then Kelly glanced at Southern. “Sorry I didn’t come straight over, Walt. Little bit of trouble at the OK Corral. Was driving by when it happened and heard the ruckus from outside.”
“Another fight?”
“Another something. Stupid name for a bar anyway. Too much testosterone, money, and liquor. I’m not a fan of that combo.”
“He said someone at the department recognized the victim once she was put back together,” said Decker.
“That someone would be me,” replied Kelly.
Decker hiked an eyebrow. “How’s that?”
“I left out one of the other things I’m responsible for here in London. Prostitution.”
“So Cramer was a hooker?” said Decker.
Surprisingly, Kelly shrugged. “I don’t know for sure.”
“Why not?” asked Jamison. “Seems to be pretty easy to tell whether someone is or isn’t.”
“You’d think. Now, the term ‘streetwalker’ is pretty outdated these days, but up here, we still have them. The guys drive by in certain sections of town and the ladies hook up with them right then and there. With that said, a lot of the arrangements are made online so as to avoid doing any direct soliciting in public.”
“So was Cramer arranging things online?” asked Decker.
“I’m on the computer all the time looking for sites that offer this stuff. I know where to look, at least for the sorts of things that go on here. I found one site advertising ‘consulting services’ for men in the oil and gas field here in London. Even though the site took pains to make it look legit, because these folks know cops are looking, there was one picture that looked really familiar to me. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she looked really different, makeup, hair, clothing, but I recognized Cramer. I’d seen her around town,” he added hastily. “So at the very least, it seemed that she was in the ‘escort’ business in some way. She called herself Mindy on the site, for what that’s worth.”
“So it wasn’t a shock when you found out she was dead?” said Jamison. “I mean, prostitution is a high-risk occupation.”
“Well, it was surprising, actually, because murders are rare, at least around here, even for prostitutes. And it was a shock how she was found.”
“I can see that,” replied Decker evenly, watching Kelly closely.
“But what I don’t really get is why you folks were even called in for this. After Walt called me I went to talk to my chief. It was only then that I found out the autopsy and police reports had been sent to DC after a request came in from the Feds. I mean, it’s a weird-ass murder, sure, but there are lots of weird-ass murders, and the locals handle them by and large.”
Decker said, “Why do you think we were called in? You must have a theory.”
“Why should I have a theory?”
“You strike me as the type.”
In answer Kelly pointed to the table and the body on it. “She’s got some connection to something that has you Feds interested. I just don’t know what that is, but I’d sure like to.”
“Wouldn’t we all,” muttered Decker.
Chapter 5
“The paint in my room smells fresh and the carpet looks like they just laid it today,” said Jamison.
They had checked into their hotel on the main street of London and were having dinner in the restaurant off the lobby. Despite the late hour, it was pretty full.
“Comes with the cycle of booms and busts,” responded Decker as he glanced over his menu and frowned. “They have tofu here? In rural North Dakota?”
“Why not?” asked Jamison. “I’m sure people here eat tofu.”
“Yeah, maybe with their bacon and sausage. And elk.”
They ordered, and Decker sat back in his chair cradling the bottle of Corona with a lime wedge the waitress had brought him while Jamison sipped on some iced tea.
“So what do you think of Detective Kelly?” she said.
“I think his talents might be wasted in a place like this. But then again, this might be a hotbed of crime for all I know.”
“Men with too much money,” mused Jamison. “Like he said.”
Decker nodded absently. “Kelly wants to know why we’re here. And so do I. I called and left a message with Bogart but I’ve heard nothing back yet.”
“I did too, with the same result. What do you think after looking at the body?”
“It could be some psycho with a forensic fetish, or someone is leaving a message of some sort.”
“What sort of message?”
“If Cramer was killed because of something she knew, and others knew it as well, then it’s a warning not to talk or the same will happen to them.”
“What could she have known?”
“Well, if I knew that, we could make an arrest and fly home,” said Decker.
“Point taken.”
Decker’s expression grew dark. “I don’t think this is a one-off, Alex.”
“Meaning?”
“You heard what Walt Southern said. Medical-grade incisions and tools. You don’t walk into a Home Depot and buy a Stryker saw. And the body was cut up before it was laid out there, otherwise there would have been traces of the procedure and at least some blood. And he had to transport her out there. He evidently picked the spot with care.”
“So that shows he knows the area. Or at least scoped out that particular location beforehand.”
Decker nodded. “That takes planning and patience.” He looked over her shoulder and his eyes widened in surprise. He blinked twice as though to clear his vision and make sure he was seeing correctly.
“Stan?”
The big man who had just come into the dining area glanced sharply over at them when he heard the name. His look of astonishment mirrored Decker’s.
“Amos?”
The man named Stan came over and Decker stood to shake his hand as Jamison looked on, puzzled.
“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Decker.
“Could ask the same of you,” said Stan.
He was nearly as tall and broad as Decker, with reddish hair going gray at the edges, a florid face, and twinkly green eyes. His short, trimmed beard matched the color of his hair.