Broken Hearts, Broken Bodies: Mahoney and Me Mystery Series, #5
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About this ebook
Friday night rolls around, and Cedar Falls waits in suspense. Will the Basher strike again?
The death count rises every weekend after a serial killer attacks and mercilessly beats more young women. On their broken bodies, the killer leaves a red paper valentine ripped in two.
Detective Mahoney needs to find evidence to end the Basher's spree. To get it may mean he has to put his wife's life in jeopardy.
Mary Lee Tiernan
I was born in New York, but the lure of open spaces brought me west, and I now call Arizona home. Throughout my professional life as an educator and newspaper editor, my passion has always been writing. My other passion is exploring all the West has to offer, and I am often RVing down the road with my cat Charlie.
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Broken Hearts, Broken Bodies - Mary Lee Tiernan
Broken Hearts, Broken Bodies
by Mary Lee Tiernan
Copyright 2014 Mary Lee Tiernan
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Mahoney and Me Mystery Series
Book 1 Stopping in Lonely Places
Book 2 Mahoney and Me
Book 3 Caught in Lies
Book 4 Santa’s Naughty List
Book 5 Broken Hearts, Broken Bodies
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All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be copied or reproduced in any format without the prior written consent of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents or events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or persons, past or present, is coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Books by the Author
Chapter 1
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Mother Nature had decided to give us a break from the cold winter weather so Mahoney and I opted to resurrect our bicycles from the garage and enjoy a day outside in the warm sunshine. I grabbed a couple of bottles of water, one for me, one for him, and walked toward the front door to join Mahoney. He was busy explaining to Dorsey, our dog, that he couldn’t come with us.
Okay,
I said, let’s go.
Then Mahoney’s phone rang. I stopped mid-stride. Mahoney’s a detective for the Cedar Falls P.D. Unfortunately, crime doesn’t stop because it’s Saturday and Mahoney’s day off.
Mahoney.
As he listened, his facial expression changed from relaxed to attentive. I knew it signaled the end of our planned ride.
Half-hour,
he said to the caller and hung up.
After returning his phone to his pocket, he paused for a moment before looking over at me. I guessed he was trying to figure out what to say to me for ruining our ride. I was disappointed, but I also knew it wasn’t his fault. Sometimes I’d like to get ahold of those criminals myself. Of course, I’d want them tied up and immobile so they couldn’t strike back at me.
Bad one?
I asked.
Woman brutally beaten.
He came over, cupped my face in his hands, and kissed me on the forehead.
Sorry, Princess.
I’ve been his ‘princess’ since I met him when he rescued me from a predator. In my case, the attacker wanted me dead—and almost succeeded. Mahoney had been the detective assigned to my case. The sparks flew between us as soon as we saw each other. He explained the instant attraction by saying, You need a Prince Charming to come to your rescue, and I need a Princess to save. Worked out well for both of us, don’t you think?
It sure did work out well; now he’s not only my Prince Charming but my husband too. That, by the way, makes me Mrs. Mahoney. He prefers being addressed by his last name instead of Jack.
Why don’t you go for a ride?
he suggested. Your bike’s in the driveway ready to go.
I hesitated before answering. Was there any chance he’d be home early enough so we could go together later? Mahoney knows me well—and what I’m thinking.
I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. I’d hate for you to wait and miss a chance to be outdoors if I get home late. Go.
I didn’t really feel like riding by myself, but between Mahoney’s cooking and the sedentary life indoors during the cold weather, my clothes were getting tight and the numbers on the scale were jumping upward. Mahoney’s a great cook anyway, but for Christmas I’d enrolled him in a series of workshop lessons on preparing French cuisine. So, of course, he came home and ‘practiced.’ So delicious, and oh so rich. Thoughts of having to graduate to the next size in clothing convinced me to go.
Okay. At least a short ride.
I squatted down to pet our black and white border collie and ruffled his head.
Looks like you get to go after all,
I said to him. Let’s get your harness.
Are you going to leash him?
Mahoney asked as he left the great room to change.
I usually don’t. He’s good and stays fairly close to me. I don’t want to tempt Fate by tethering him to the bike and then being pulled off-balance should he respond to what he considers a dog-emergency that just must be investigated.
No, but I’ll take the leash with me in case I need it,
I said as Mahoney disappeared from sight.
I went to the closet to get Dorsey’s harness and leash. When I took them out, Dorsey turned in circles and woofed. Yeah, I get to go.
I put his harness on him, grabbed the two bottles of water from the table where I’d set them down—I’d still need the second bottle for Dorsey—picked up my cell phone and put it into my pocket, and we went outside. I slipped the bottles of water into holders attached to the frame and the leash into a pouch Mahoney had devised underneath the seat.
Mahoney came out in his work clothes—slacks and a sport jacket. He grabbed hold of the handlebars on his bike and walked it to the garage as he went to get his car.
Just put yours in the garage when you get back,
he said over his shoulder. I’ll put them up when I get home.
Mahoney had installed brackets on the garage wall so we could hang the bikes on the wall and save floor space. My racing bike weighs less than 20 pounds so it’s really no trouble getting it down and hanging it back up by myself since the bracket is low on the wall. Mahoney’s bike hangs above mine. Getting his up and down would be a challenge for me; I don’t have the advantage of being over 6 feet tall. But it is easier for him to hang his bike up when my bike isn’t in the way.
Dorsey was raring to go and headed down the driveway.
Dorsey, come back here. Let’s wait for Daddy to leave.
There’s plenty of room in the driveway for all of us, but I’m never sure about Dorsey’s enthusiasm where Mahoney is concerned. I didn’t want him running around the car to say goodbye. Dorsey came back and stood beside me. We waved as Mahoney drove past us down the driveway. Dorsey really does wave. He picks up his paw and flaps it back and forth. He’s great at imitating.
Within ten minutes, I knew for sure this wasn’t going to be a long ride. My muscles complained with every revolution of the pedals, and my speed decreased. I had to keep calling Dorsey to come back when he got too far ahead of me. His muscles were in fine shape. When we returned home a half-hour later, I resolved to start exercising regularly. It was a good thing Mahoney wasn’t with me. I would have driven him crazy if he had to slow down and wait for me.
I collapsed on the couch with a bottle of water to let my body relax and turned on the TV just in time to catch the local mid-day news on CFNX. The lead story covered the discovery of the woman who had been severely beaten. I bet that was the case Mahoney had been called to.
The screen showed a reporter standing in front of a row of carports. Behind him, yellow tape and police cars marked off an area alive with activity as investigators moved back and forth. The camera was too far away for me to determine whether or not Mahoney was one of them.
Sometime last night,
Harry, the reporter, said, a woman returning home was attacked by a robber. Police think she was struck as she exited her car. The robber took her purse, but also beat her severely and dragged her in front of the car concealing her from view. She was discovered by a friend this morning and identified as Sally Mortenson.
The scene switched to a close-up of the reporter standing in front of an apartment building.
The victim lives here at Cedar Meadows,
Harry continued.
He stepped aside and the camera panned to the name of the complex on the apartment building, then back to him.
With me is Jane Evans, the friend who discovered Sally’s unconscious body.
The camera backed up to reveal Jane.
How did you find Sally?
Harry asked.
We were supposed to go to lunch,
Jane said. She was expecting me to call and tell her what time I’d pick her up. When she didn’t answer or call me back, I was afraid something had happened to her. It’s not like her to ignore my calls, so I drove over to her apartment. When she didn’t answer the door, I went to the manager and asked him to let me in. I thought maybe she had fallen or something.
The camera zoomed in on the door to apartment 106. It was slightly ajar and two uniformed officers stood next to it. The camera began to move back to the reporter when the door to the apartment opened. The cameraman immediately refocused on the door, and Mahoney stepped into view. He handed one of the officers a plastic bag and said something to him, although we couldn’t hear what. The uniform nodded his head and stepped away from the door. Mahoney went back inside and closed the door. He never looked at the camera. Harry continued interviewing Jane off-camera.
Did you go into the apartment?
he asked.
Yes, but we didn’t find her. The manager suggested I call the police. Before I did that, I decided to check and make sure her car was here, you know, in case she had gone somewhere. The car was in the carport, but something didn’t seem right. I walked closer to it and realized the driver’s door wasn’t shut all the way. Sally would never leave the door open like that. She always locks her car. So I walked around the car.
Jane’s voice cracked and she wiped her hand across her eyes.
That’s when I found her...
Jane dissolved into tears and turned away from the camera. The cameraman refocused on a close-up of Harry.
The victim has been transported to Cedar Falls Hospital where she is being treated. Doctors will not comment on her condition at this time but did indicate that being left out in the cold all night did not improve her chances of recovery.
A photo of Sally appeared on the screen. Police are asking that anyone who saw the victim last night or saw anything unusual in or near the carport call their hotline.
The segment ended with the number of the hotline appearing on the screen, and the news continued with other stories. The segment may have been over, but not the story. That was just beginning.
Chapter 2
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An hour or so after the broadcast, Lieutenant Palmer called—me. He’s in charge of the detectives. I gulped. That’s always my first reaction because I immediately think of Mahoney. Had something happened to him? He’d been shot before, right before our wedding no less. But I knew notifications of injuries or worse were made in person—not on the phone. So I didn’t go into panic mode.
The hotline is inundated with calls,
Palmer said. Is there any chance you can help us again?
I’d answered hotline calls for the police before and helped in various ways on other cases, so his request wasn’t totally out-of-the-blue. The lieutenant is fair though. When I ask to be allowed to watch an interview from the video room, for example, he lets me. The arrangement has worked well for both of us.
Be right there,
I said. ‘There’ being the police station.
Thanks.
When calls come in to the hotline on a particular case, like this one, we rate the calls. We take down the caller’s information—name, address, phone number, and a brief summary of the conversation—for all calls, but we also prioritize them so the detectives can respond to the most promising leads first. Should we get a really ‘hot’ lead, we notify the detectives immediately.
I didn’t receive any ‘hot’ leads that day. A lot of people recognized Sally Mortenson from her photo on the news. I surmised from the calls that Sally and some friends had gone to dinner and a movie. Sally was—is?—a very pretty young lady in her early 20s. She would attract attention. Most of the calls were from people who had seen her in the restaurant or at the movies, but they had little to offer other than recognizing her photo. Those calls received a low priority.
Two of the calls I answered were from the friends who had been with Sally the night before. Those received a high priority. The callers said basically the same thing. They had gone to Mipiace for pizza and then to a movie at the Cinema 6 complex. They also gave the same timeframe for their activities. After the movie, the group had split up and everyone had gone home.
I wanted to grill them a little on whether or not Sally may have been the type to stop somewhere on the way home—for a nightcap at a bar for example—but that was Mahoney’s job. It’s best not to warn witnesses of the types of questions the detectives might ask. They judge a person’s reaction to a question as well as the answer. Knowing a question beforehand gives the witness time to prepare an answer and negates the detective seeing the initial reaction.
In Sally’s case, for example, friends might try to protect her reputation by saying she would not go to a bar by herself or pick up someone to take home. While they may still say that without knowing the question beforehand, their body language when first being asked the question would tell the detective if they were uncomfortable with the question and hedging a completely honest response. A rehearsed answer usually does not have the same effect. So I stuck to my