The East Avenue Murders (The Maude Rogers Crime Novels Book 1) by Linda L. Dunlap Page B

attaching herself to the murderer. Then there was the need to know by the Feds. Would Joe feel inclined to pass any information along to those glory-grabbing pricks and give up the rightful case that fell their way? Truth was, she didn’t know that much about Joe Allen. For all she knew, he might be hoping to work for the Feds and watching for openings to boost his own career.
    Maude’s sense of fair play won out and she began telling her partner about the victims in Chicago and how she left it all behind after getting too personally involved with the families. She told him about the killer and how he had taunted the investigators at the last with his careless disposal of the young women’s frozen hearts. Owning her own mistakes even though she wasn’t the lead investigator, she accepted responsibility for letting the killer get away.
    “Now,” she said, “I believe he is back. Only this time his M.O. has changed to a more savage display of contempt for human life.”
    He seemed to like abusing women , she thought. Maybe they could play on that, look for back cases of attacks on women in the last eight years that were unsolved, especially in the Madison area or on the route from Chicago to Madison. She made a mental note to get with Alice when she got back to the office.
    Joe sat quietly not asking questions even though Maude could tell he wanted to know plenty. She saw his facial muscles tighten as she told about the men in suits in Chicago who pulled all her notes from the investigation and locked both her and her new partner out of the loop. Maude took a breath then talked about the box that was delivered to her house and what that meant. She believed the Chicago serial killer had pulled her in, and it wasn’t an accident. Joe nodded his head, agreeing with her.
    “So, Joe, what do you want to do? Give it up? Take care of the rest of the workload we have and let them have this?” Maude needed to know his feelings, what to expect from this man who would become closer than a brother covering her in the tough spots.
    “Or do you want to find the murdering scum that did this before he does it again?” Maude continued.
    “Do you think he will, Maude?” Joe asked “Do it again?”
    “Yeah,” she said, “I’d bet on it.”
    “Then let’s you and me stop him.” Joe said.  The sincerity in his voice was all she needed to hear.
    Work goes on in other areas and Maude knew they had an appointment with Betty Ann Davis at two o’clock , and she was getting hungry; going to the morgue always made her hungry. She supposed it was some deep psychological need for reassurance that she was alive, or at least that’s what a shrink would say. A hamburger stand on Fifth Street catered to cops, always making sure they got their food quickly before the officers got called away. That’s where she took Joe. The food was good as always and afterwards Maude took her soda with her, intending to put Joe behind the wheel.
    “You’re up,” she told him, rattling off the address as she pitched him the key and stretched her long legs in the passenger seat. She had filled him in on the details of the old man’s trip to the roof and subsequent death. “We’re seeing the sister”.
    The street where Betty Ann Davis lived was in a low rent neighborhood, some government housing mixed with old run down rental property mostly appealing to people on fixed incomes paid by the federal government.
    When they rolled into the driveway kids scattered off the street near them, fear of the cops evident in the way they grabbed their bicycles and headed anywhere but there. Kids did that in most places, but especially in low-rent neighborhoods. They seemed to believe that nothing a cop had to say was going to be any benefit to them. They were usually right.
    The lawn was lush, heavy green grass and weeds, badly in need of mowing. Maude got out of the car and walked to the front door , climbing the five steep steps to the landing, Joe right