Read Online The East Avenue Murders (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 1) by Linda L. Dunlap - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Linda L. Dunlap
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address and directions. The box in all its white innocence was protected till the lab techs got there and could record any data. She didn’t expect them to find any clues left by the perpetrator. The sick scum was also slick and he wasn’t going to make a petty mistake like leaving his prints. The memory of Chicago was still fresh in Maude’s mind after thinking about it earlier in the day. She felt a flutter in her chest, a small jab that made her guts watery, wondering if it was possible. Had the madman from the Windy City found his way to Madison? After eight years, his trail was as cold as it ever would be. He had gotten away with it. The horrible murders of the four young single women in Chicago still burned Maude, as she remembered the pity she had felt for their families. Now she wondered if he had come crawling out from under his rock with a new game and wanted his old playmate.
She was sick at the thought, overcome with hatred for th e cowardly scum whom she believed should suffer quick justice for his crimes, without ever having the benefit of panels of decent men and women to decide his fate. There were times Maude regretted the oaths she had taken to protect and serve.
She would have expected a gleeful note with the box, a joyous description of the acts of murder and savagery, but there was nothing other than the box and the bright red gift paper under its foul contents. The police officers finally left after they had searched her yard and the lots surrounding her, looking for suspicious persons that might have been seen or heard by residents. They took her statement, noting that she was a detective with the Madison police department, assigned to the Homicide Division.
The team of techs took the box away to the crime lab where the breast tissue and the container would be analyzed, searching for clues that might help in finding the killer of the two young women on East Avenue. Maude reminded them to take the bulb from her security light and check it for prints also. When all the law enforcement personnel had departed, Maude dropped into her recliner and fell asleep where she dreamed of a man with blood on his hands, laughing at her and intermittently calling her name, telling her it was Chicago all over again and he was back.
Chapter 4
The next morning found Maude in her chair needing three things: a cigarette, to go pee and a shower. She groaned from the discomfort of lying in the recliner all night, wishing she had gone to bed instead. The night’s horror was still fresh in her memory, the box in its false gaiety a harbinger of worse things to come.
She considered the years she had to go before retirement and moaned a little in self-pity. Standing was difficult, leaning on the arms of the chair and pushing off as the recliner sat straight up propelled her upwards and forward to a position where she could hobble off to the bathroom, taking her pack of unfiltereds with her, lighting one as she went.
Sitting down on the porcelain commode she drained her night ’s water, sighing with relief, inhaling the first few puffs of the smoke, pulling it gratefully into her lungs. She sat musing over the great taste of the first cigarette in the morning, wondering if tobacco would be the cause of her death.
The phone stayed quiet, and Maude decided to enjoy the morning, hoping that it would remain a peaceful interlude. She decided against the shower, and chose instead to take a long soak in the garden tub she had splurged on last year. The jets from the tub soothed her soreness, easing the pain of arthritis from her knees. Sunday was the day she sometimes went to the little Baptist church a few miles from her house, but after the restless night of wild dreams, she needed to rest and begin a plan to protect herself from the East Avenue murderer.
The sicko knows where I live, who my neighbors are and can watc h me anytime he chooses, she thought, stretching her arms and legs above the water in the tub. She
She was sick at the thought, overcome with hatred for th e cowardly scum whom she believed should suffer quick justice for his crimes, without ever having the benefit of panels of decent men and women to decide his fate. There were times Maude regretted the oaths she had taken to protect and serve.
She would have expected a gleeful note with the box, a joyous description of the acts of murder and savagery, but there was nothing other than the box and the bright red gift paper under its foul contents. The police officers finally left after they had searched her yard and the lots surrounding her, looking for suspicious persons that might have been seen or heard by residents. They took her statement, noting that she was a detective with the Madison police department, assigned to the Homicide Division.
The team of techs took the box away to the crime lab where the breast tissue and the container would be analyzed, searching for clues that might help in finding the killer of the two young women on East Avenue. Maude reminded them to take the bulb from her security light and check it for prints also. When all the law enforcement personnel had departed, Maude dropped into her recliner and fell asleep where she dreamed of a man with blood on his hands, laughing at her and intermittently calling her name, telling her it was Chicago all over again and he was back.
Chapter 4
The next morning found Maude in her chair needing three things: a cigarette, to go pee and a shower. She groaned from the discomfort of lying in the recliner all night, wishing she had gone to bed instead. The night’s horror was still fresh in her memory, the box in its false gaiety a harbinger of worse things to come.
She considered the years she had to go before retirement and moaned a little in self-pity. Standing was difficult, leaning on the arms of the chair and pushing off as the recliner sat straight up propelled her upwards and forward to a position where she could hobble off to the bathroom, taking her pack of unfiltereds with her, lighting one as she went.
Sitting down on the porcelain commode she drained her night ’s water, sighing with relief, inhaling the first few puffs of the smoke, pulling it gratefully into her lungs. She sat musing over the great taste of the first cigarette in the morning, wondering if tobacco would be the cause of her death.
The phone stayed quiet, and Maude decided to enjoy the morning, hoping that it would remain a peaceful interlude. She decided against the shower, and chose instead to take a long soak in the garden tub she had splurged on last year. The jets from the tub soothed her soreness, easing the pain of arthritis from her knees. Sunday was the day she sometimes went to the little Baptist church a few miles from her house, but after the restless night of wild dreams, she needed to rest and begin a plan to protect herself from the East Avenue murderer.
The sicko knows where I live, who my neighbors are and can watc h me anytime he chooses, she thought, stretching her arms and legs above the water in the tub. She
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