Deadly Pairs

By Bonnie Edwards

In Tucson, Arizona detective partners Tec Hoffman and Bill Jenkins have new crimes to solve. They will find that sometimes wickedness arrives in pairs. Tec and Bill are going to have a struggle locating these terrible duos. Even with the help of Sara they’ve got some difficult puzzles to solve. As two of Tucson’s finest go on the hunt, confusion abounds but these two are good at bringing order out of chaos. And when Frank Alvarez joins the detection team, what appear at first to be coincidence may provide the key to solve the case and bring the pair of serial killers to justice before they can strike again (and this time way too close to home) Logic and luck both come to play as Tec works his way up to the point of an arrest. There’s a copy-cat too and a home invasion with amazing consequences. And maybe, just maybe, Julie will reappear for a moment...it’s been almost ten years since she managed to get away with murder...but Tec never gave up on finding her and won’t do so now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bonnie Edwards
• Release date: Oct 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310707575

Bonnie Edwards

Bonnie Edwards has been published by Kensington Books, Harlequin Books, Carina Press, and more.  With over 40 titles to her credit, her romances have been translated into several languages. Her books are sold worldwide.  Learn about more exciting releases and get a free romance by subscribing to her newsletter, Bonnie’s Newsy Bits through her website. https://www.bonnieedwards.com/ Cheers and happy reading! Bonnie Edwards

Book preview

Chapter One

March 16, 2004, Tucson, Arizona, Tucson Mountains, morning

The tall gray-haired man came into the room entering from the basement stairs. She’s gone. I didn’t want to do it but that stupid female made me choke her and I couldn’t stop. She looked at me, you know, the way they look at me. As if she despised me. As if the touch of me made her want to vomit. I’m not about to put up with that… Shaking his head he abruptly sat on the couch facing Tom.

"Damn it, Charles, I wasn’t through playing with her yet. You’re always rushing things. Just because she don’t want you. She ain’t tired of me. She only turns her head away so that she can really enjoy it, you know, me being on her. And then you have to go and choke her and now we have to find another one and a dress and more bags and a new park… damn it!

Charles stood up as quickly as he sat. He towered over Tom, fists clenched, ready to strike if Tom said anything more. Think so, Tom? You think so! You want to tell me that again?

Hey, I was just messing with you. If you’re tired of her, she’s got to go, man. You are right about that. You are always the one to tell when we’re through. I mean to tell you. You are the only one who knows when we’re done. And this chick, she was pretty worn out. Time to say, Sayonara.

Charles didn’t seem to be mollified by this statement. You know what I always say, Tom? I always say it’s easy to keep a secret between two people if one of them is dead. Isn’t that what I always say, Tom?

Yeah, Charles, but I don’t talk to nobody. I swear. I don’t tell nobody about this place or the girls we bring here or nothing. I can keep a secret. I haven’t told nobody nothing and I’m not going to either. No Siree, you don’t have to shut me up. I’m not talking!

Charles walked away now that he was through intimidating Tom. He had made his point. He walked over to the picture window and once more admired the view of downtown Tucson. The house was set high up on a hill on the eastward facing slope of the Tucson Mountains. It snuggled nicely into the side of the hill and the back yard sat high enough so that the windows on the west side of the basement, had there been any, would have been covered by soil. Basement windows facing the street side had been painted black. No natural light peeked into the basement which, downright cold in the winter, remained refreshingly cool in summer months. No one held in that basement would have a sense that escape was possible, much less easy.

One more interesting facet of this property was the total inaccessibility of the back yard from the front of the house except through its interior. The back yard, set on a steep slope, precluded entry from the hillside above the house unless one was willing to slide down the cliff-like slope of foothill that presented a nearly ninety degree drop. It was the potentially most treacherous slide in the neighborhood. So unwelcoming was the terrain, even small boys and dogs avoided that hillside. To complicate matters even further, each side of the back yard was walled in by dense growths of Oleander plants. Those entwined and stubborn branches could actually poison a person if he got a sharp edge poking him and its poisons reached his bloodstream. Even a nick could and often did cause a swelling, distending the flesh of the victim’s hand or limb, often resulting in a useless appendage. The effects of such a puncture could last for days. A person in possession of a hacksaw and a machete with hours of time to spare might penetrate this layer of protection at some risk to himself. Given the size and shape of most adults it would be considered a nearly impossible task to carve a hole big enough to gain access to the yard unless days not hours were available to accomplish such a task.

The tri-level house sat in the middle of this property. Its uppermost floor held two bedrooms, each having its own adjoining bath. The middle floor provided a kitchen, living room and small dining room. All of the furniture could best be described as utilitarian if one were too polite to say downright ugly. Tom thought the furnishings hideous, but since he lived in the house rent free he did not proffer his opinion of the décor. Charles never commented on the attractiveness or lack thereof of their surroundings and so it would seem to be one more taboo subject of which there were so many.

Many, if not most, of the homes built before the nineties in Tucson had only carports. But in areas near or in the open desert, garages were advisable if only to prevent rattlesnakes or pack rats appearing underneath or, worse yet, inside ones car. Houses in the area near A mountain where this house was located, surrounded by rugged desert terrain, usually featured an attached garage. This one did. Just outside the kitchen doorway was where the enclosed garage was located.

The garage, a continuation of the house, made it handy to store the van they used only on special occasions as well as their little 1989 Dodge Ram truck and Charles’ motorcycle. This arrangement made it possible for people to be brought into the house through the garage into the kitchen and then down the interior stairs with no one on the street being any wiser.

Charles, who didn’t like to keep the girls in the house for very long once he had finished with them, was fanatical about the preparation for burial in the peculiar fashion that he chose. He would not deviate one iota from his practice. Getting the girls clean was one part of the ritual, the long white dresses were the next step. Usually the whole process took less than a couple of hours to get the women washed, cocooned up and out the door. But, as he informed Tom, they were out of dresses and didn’t want to call attention to themselves by searching for additional long white dresses in the city of Tucson. An out of town shopping trip was in order.

Time for a road trip, Man. We’ll go to Tombstone. One of those vintage costume shops should be just the thing. But first you go down and wash her. Use lots of soap and water and be sure she’s really clean. Not like that little tramp we brought in here. Wash her hair too. I’ll go get you some towels and the shampoo. We’ll leave her to cool off while we’re gone. Turn the heat off down there when you’re done. And I’ll bring you a sheet to put over her. I’m tired of looking at her. She’s just like all the rest of them. Didn’t appreciate a real man when she had one. Get going now. No time to waste! And remember what I said, I want this one squeaky clean, inside and out. Just like the others. No clues, Terrible Thomas, no clues for those cop bastards.

Tom walked away, his short stride making him appear awkward and ungainly. He looked out the picture window appreciating for a moment the view of all of Tucson laid out before him and then slowly, reluctantly, ambled over to the basement stairs and, head hung low, went downstairs to do the distasteful duties that for some reason were always left for him to complete.

Tom entered the basement room. The construction of the large square cinderblock encased room with an over eight foot high ceiling made noise from this room almost inaudible upstairs. Rooms that led off from this one held laundry appliances, storage and a furnace. But the room that held the corpse of the young woman had only the table on which she lay and the double sinks. Even the thermostat that regulated the temperature in this large room was only available on the other side of the door.

Tom was silent, fuming. I know the reason I get the cleanup chore. I’m the flunky. Charles pays for everything. He owns the cars and the house including the gawd awful furniture. In a gang of two I’m the gang and he’s the boss. I am a fool if I act like it’s any different. And I could lose my head if I stand up to him. That was dumb this morning and I’d better watch out. He’s killed all those women and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me either. If I know what’s good for me I’ll do whatever he says. I‘m best off if I play ole dumb Tom. That’s what he expects of me and that’s what I’ll do until I split out of here. One of these days I’m gonna do just that. It sure is nice though. Not having to work and getting these women. He’s the planner. I’m the doer. So be it!

Chapter Two

October 9, 2003, Reid Park, Tucson, Arizona

Maria Gonzales, a beautiful fresh-faced twenty-one year old woman, worked in a restaurant near the Deaf and Blind School and not too far from the Santa Cruz River. On a cold October night she finished her shift and left the restaurant to walk five blocks to the home she shared with her mother and three younger siblings. She never reached home. How close she came to getting home no one knew. Her usual route took her between some buildings that were isolated and empty of occupants at night and out onto El Grande, across the road and into the subdivision that ran for about seven blocks at the base of A mountain. Her mom and siblings had already gone to bed on the night Maria went missing and did not register her absence until the following morning. No one in the area had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary.

Hers, the first body to be found, turned up on a park bench in Reid Park inside the rose garden. She was found by a homeless man. Fearing he would be blamed, he was sorely tempted to run away. But he did not. The object wrapped up in a cocoon of white, sheer plastic bags which met in the middle and were kept together by long strips of electrician’s tape appeared to have a face peeking out of the wrap. The visage really frightened him. He loped over to the zoo and told one of the ticket sales people: You need to call the cops. There is a body over there in the rose garden. A body in a bag. It’s scary as hell. I don’t want no kids seeing it!

When the policeman arrived, Jack, the homeless person, bravely stood his ground and told his story. The young cop kept Jack waiting until the detectives got there even though rather obviously from the neatness and sanitized condition of the improvised body bag, this shabby, none too clean, individual could not have pulled off this kind of packaging. So he was a witness to finding the bag and the body and nothing more but still his information was needed.

When the same policeman, a neighborhood patrolman who knew the community and the area well, saw the bench in the rose garden with the large white bag lying there, he could just make out a face, surrounded by a cloud of black hair staring out at him. He recognized that this was going to call for a higher level of response than just one lone cop on the beat. He called for backup.

Detectives Tec Hoffman and Jenkins were assigned the original investigation. They made a beeline for Reid Park. After arriving at the scene and seeing its pristine condition, they called for the crime scene boys to show up. When they had all seen the body bag in situ, photographs had been taken and an attempt had been made to gather materials in the immediate area, the corpse was removed by van. Tec and Bill interviewed the homeless man and the admittance booth worker and watched the scene for a while. No one came near. The rose garden was clearly in view from the top of Barnum hill, the mound that rose above the lake and had a small but wide waterfall cascading from it down into the lake. No one showed up there or indeed in the general vicinity. The fragrance of roses in their last bloom of the year seemed to hang in the air, reminding the law enforcement personnel on the scene that this area was meant to be a welcoming invitation for visitors to the Old Pueblo and not the location of a horror story in the making.

On this cold autumn morning, the park didn’t seem to attract the native Tucsonans, whose blood, as rumor had it, thinned out over the years. Most local residents appeared to avoid the park in the cold a.m. with the exception of the compulsive exercisers. And if tourists were around, they were in other parts of the 154 acre park which included an 18-hole golf course, a driving range, a generous array of tennis courts, the zoo, a small lake and many other facilities.

The jogging path did not come near this part of the park. So Tec moved on to the hill in the back of the band shell. From this vantage point he could now see runners in their brightly colored running gear making their way around the oasis-like setting in the middle of the busy thoroughfares of Tucson. There would be more of them running around the track on the golf course which wasn’t far away. When he moved to that part of the park near the entrance to the zoo he could see the runners who resembled so many vividly colored beetles moving in a neat row staying relatively the same distance apart from one another as they circumnavigated the park.

Tec spoke to Bill. Gather a crew and start interviewing the runners on the path nearest the rose garden and see if anyone saw or heard anything unusual as far as a car parking near the rose garden early this morning. Probably right at the entrance gate to the gardens. I’m going to go over near the zoo entrance again and see what those runners have to say. Someone must have seen something.

As Tec neared the zoo again, he heard the roar of the large male lion who apparently wanted breakfast. Usually the loud roar of the jungle creature brought a smile to his face, but not so on this morning of grim discovery.

The runners that Tec managed to stop and question were annoyed at having their timing thrown off by being interrupted. Runner after runner talked about blocking out sounds around them. We run on these trails so we aren’t disturbed by traffic. You get in a zone. And every runner I know wants to stay there. The only thing I hear is my own breathing and my footsteps falling as I go.

When Tec and Bill compared notes later they found that no one of the almost thirty runners they had spoken with had heard or seen anything as they ran. Barely taking note of the other runners much less a car or van unless it interfered in their being able to run continuously on the paths around the park the runners sojourned on. The road that allowed parking near the rose garden was just beyond the runner’s path, so no vehicle pulling into a parking slot would have interfered with the progress of the joggers.

The crime lab crew had taken the body and whatever else they could find near it and the contents of the one trash can in the vicinity back to the lab. When the bag was carefully opened the ME was greeted by the aroma of soap and shampoo rather than the