eb93c43e214c621f9157c05b4b6a6878

“Odelia sounds a little stressed,” Dooley whispered.

“And you wonder why?”

We’d arrived at a nice house in the suburbs, which looked a million miles away from where Dotty Ludkin lived. It was a freestanding house with a picture-postcard front yard and relatively new. Chase parked across the street and we all got out. I could see that Abe had already arrived, and the police activity was picking up in volume and intensity.

When we walked in, a police officer informed us that the person that was found dead was a Calista Burden, aged thirty-seven, who lived at this address with her husband Dave Burden, though of Mr. Burden there was no trace. A UPS man had discovered the body: he’d rung the bell and when no one opened the door had glanced through the window and had seen the owner of the house sprawled out on the couch so he called the police.

Mrs. Burden was indeed in the position indicated, and as we walked in I had a distinct sense of d?j?-vu: the position of the body and the way she had been murdered looked much the same as the earlier scene we’d witnessed at Dotty Ludkin’s apartment.

Abe looked up when we entered and gave us an unhappy frown.“Two dead bodies in one day. A bit much, wouldn’t you say? Even for Hampton Cove.”

“I didn’t do it, Abe, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” said Chase.

“No, you probably didn’t,” the coroner admitted reluctantly. “Well, looks like an exact copy of the other scene. Same nylon stocking—in fact it wouldn’t surprise me if it wasn’t the one missing from the other place—same way the arms were pinned down, presumably by sitting on them with his knees, which would explain the bruising and the lack of defensive wounds. They even look the same,” he said, getting up. “Though this victim is perhaps a decade older than the other one.”

“Time of death?” asked Chase as he took in the details of the scene.

“Same. Between midnight and two,” said Abe.

“Same killer?”

“I’d say so. We’ll have the stockings examined, of course, to see if they’re a match. And if they are, chances are that the killer killed first one, then took a stocking to kill the other.”

“Who was killed first, you think?”

Abe grimaced at this.“Don’t quote me, but I’d say the other girl was first.”

One of the officers joined us.“Sir, I talked to one of the neighbors and they claim that Calista Burden was a madam.”

“A madam?”

“That she ran a brothel, sir. Everyone knew about it. She has an office in town and she ran her business from there but the whole neighborhood knew and she didn’t hide it.”

Chase shared a quick look with Odelia. It seemed to confirm Mrs. Garlic’s view that Dotty Ludkin had been a prostitute.

“Oh, and also, sir, we found no trace of Mrs. Burden’s phone. No computer either.”

“So the killer strangled Dotty Ludkin with her own stocking, took her phone and laptop, if she had one, then came here and did the same thing with what could very well have been Dotty’s boss. Any signs of a breakin?”

“Yes, sir. The backdoor was forced open. Looks like whoever did this came in that way.”

“So he broke in here but not in Dotty’s apartment,” said Odelia.

“Which means it could be someone Dotty knew,” said Chase.

“The boyfriend?”

It was a question that couldn’t be answered right now. But definitely something to keep in mind.

Chapter 8

We decided to pay a visit to Calista Burden’s office in town. It was located at the back of a small shopping gallery that had seen better days. Half of the stores had been boarded up and were eagerly awaiting new tenants, and the other half weren’t exactly your high-end kind of stores either. Once we’d passed through the gallery, we reached a section where a few offices were located, one of which was the home of Star Calypso, the business Calista owned. When Chase tried the door, it wasn’t locked, and so we stepped inside.

The salon where we found ourselves was pleasantly appointed with plenty of subdued lighting and a dark burgundy decor. The sofas were all gold trim and looked expensive. On it, two ladies were seated, looking up with surprise when we entered. A burly male, a very pregnant woman and two cats probably wasn’t their usual clientele.

They were both scantily dressed and extensively made up and looked like models.

“Yes?” asked the first one. “Can we help you?”

“Chase Kingsley, Hampton Cove police,” Chase grunted, flashing his badge.

Immediately both women were on edge. The police were not their best friend, the sudden change in their demeanor seemed to say.

“Do you work here?” asked Odelia.

Both women decided to remain mum.

“Did Calista Burden work here? Or Dotty… Berg?”

The woman who’d addressed us frowned. “Why are you asking? Has something happened?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Odelia, then walked over to the sofa and lowered herself onto it, watched on by the two women, who were clearly wondering what the heck was going on. “Calista Burden was found dead just now. And so was Dotty Berg. Or Dotty Ludkin.”

The two ladies exchanged a look of surprise.“Dead? What do you mean?” asked the most talkative one.