A Hot Day Down South…Part III…incomplete and unedited…

Daisy Louise Wainwright, 38, mother of 15-year-old Amber Wainwright sauntered into the police station between Tomas and Wiggins.  She wore Hello Kitty pajamas and a cigarette hung out of the corner of her mouth. Her blondish hair was mussed, and she appeared to not have rested at any point in the last century. Tomas led her to a chair next to his desk.  Wiggins waved Konan over.

“Konan, this is Daisy. She is in the finals for Mother of the Year,” he wheezed. Tomas nodded and sat down.

“As Wiggins said, she is in the running for Mother of the Year, but she is also a fulltime street walker and goes by: Josey, Tina, and Bae-Bae.” 

“Haha, you pigs must be in the running for Comedian of the Year.”

Tomas glared at Daisy. Konan stepped in front of her and made eye contact. 

“Hey, Daisy. I am Konan. Did you have a daughter named Amber?”

“What do you mean, did?”

“I mean Amber Wainwright, 15, is laid out on a slab in the morgue. Now, is she your daughter or not?” Tears rushed out of Daisy’s eyes. “I have a daughter that is 15. Her name is Amber. I want to see her.”

“Do you know two clowns named Joe Waterson and Billy Crump?”

“I WANT TO SEE MY DAUGHTER!”

“Answer my question first. Do you know them?”

“Yes! Take me to my daughter.”

Wiggins took Daisy by the arm and led her to the morgue. Tomas and Konan followed behind. “When she identifies the daughter, take her out and put her in a cell.” Tomas nodded. 

Ashley Wilkinson pulled out the body and revealed the face. Daisy fell to her knees sobbing. Wiggins turned to the window and shrugged.

“My baby! Oh my baby,” Daisy screamed.  Wiggins helped her from the floor, Daisy pushed her face into his thin shoulders.

“Go help him, Tomas. Let me know when you get her situated.”

“Will do.”

An hour later, Tomas entered the records cage. He seemed worn out, if not a bit frazzled. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair and sat on a box of records that was piled on the floor.

“We had to get a doctor called in to sedate her. She’s passed out in her cell. Doc said she would sleep most of the night.”

“Mmhmm,” Konan muttered. Tomas looked at him and shook his head. “Do you think Waterson or Crump killed the girl?”

“No. Their records show that they have a tendency for violence and rape, but the killer of Amber Wainwright and Lilly is smart. They quit killing for almost a decade and started back with an evolved M.O. The killer is intelligent. Waterson and Crump doesn’t fit in that category.”

Tomas nodded. “Do you have any suspects?”

“No. I planned to take my last case notes home, but I can’t find them anywhere in here. We should know something soon about Lilly.”

“Hopefully, Lilly was well liked. She always talked about you. “Got a nose like a bloodhound,” she always said. I am glad you decided to consult with us.”

“I wasn’t given much choice, Tomas. I appreciate the sentiment though.”

“Did you really punch Tia Mathers in the throat at the Christmas party?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Do you suspect the killer is a male or is it one those rare female killer types?”

“I don’t know. I suppose we will see.”

“Yeah. Well, I will let you get back to it.”

“Oh, Tomas.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell the guards to put Daisy on suicide watch. She is going to be livid when she comes to.”

“Yeah, I will tell them.”

“Alright, thanks.”

“You bet.”

Konan made one more pass through the cage in search of his old notes. “Where did they wander off to?” The file from his last case was nowhere to be found. Konan decided to visit the IT guy, Ashton Fulton, before he left for the day. The tech support shop was just down the hall from records. He knocked on the door and walked in. Ashton stood behind the counter shutting down lights.

“We’re closed.”

“Well, open back up because I have questions.”

“They can wait until tomorrow.” Konan gripped his shoulder and spun him around. 

“Whoa, guy!”

“A 15-year-old girl is dead, and I have another murder that may be connected to it. Your PlayStation can wait.”

“Okay, okay. What do you want?”

“I want you to do a search for Case File #3695.”

“You can run a-“

Konan flipped out his knife and stared into Ashton’s eyes. Ashton typed in the case file number and Konan cleaned his fingernails with the knife while he waited.

“There is no file #3695.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”

“You knew there wasn’t a case file.”

“Yeah, I searched for it before I came down here. There used to be a file but now it is gone.”

“You mean someone deleted it.”

“That’s what I mean, yes.”

“Okay, can I go home now?”

“Sure, if you will do me one last favor.”

“Sure, whatever man.”

“I want you to run a recovery of the hard drive. I want every part that has been deleted off the hard drive in my hands.”

“That could take a while.”

“Then, you better get started.”

Without another word, Konan walked out of the IT shop and went home. It was time to think.

Published by frontporchmusings694846020

I am a good ole country boy residing in North Mississippi. I love to read, fish, hunt, hike and go to garage sales. Flea markets are a passion of mine. I read anything, but some of my favorites are: Dean Koontz, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, T.S. Eliot, Shakespeare, and I possess a fondness for the writings of William Faulkner and Mark Twain. If I am forced to choose, I prefer baseball to football. I enjoy Alabama football (Roll Tide)! My baseball teams include: The Colorado Rockies and Boston Red Sox. I am divorced, the father of two daughters and live by myself with Chunk and Roscoe (my dogs).

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