The Sacred Order II

         It was nearly ten o'clock when Sergeant Stephanie Pierce received the homicide call at the station.  Her partner, Alex Johnson, was still on vacation, so she quickly grabbed her purse and rushed to her car.  From the city it took about thirty minutes to get to the elite section of beach houses located at Emerald Point.  The home belonging to the Walkens was located on top of a hill overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.  Already a couple of police cars and an ambulance had arrived at the estate.  Two cars, one a gold Lexus, the other a black BMW, were parked directly outside the garage doors.  Walking to the door, Stephanie flashed her badge to the officer standing there and went to find the coroner.



         "Any luck on this one?" she asked the man standing beside the twisted female body lying at the foot of the bed.

         Gerald turned to her with a frown on his aging face.  Gerald Whitten had been doing this work for over twenty-five years and was considered the best in his field.  "Well, I won't know exactly what's what until I get her to the chop shop, but I know a few things.  This is MiShelle Walken, tax attorney and wife of Derek Walken, CEO of River Publications.  Only thirty-five years-old," he continued, shaking his balding head.  "A beautifual woman, too, and I always get to see them this way."

         Stephanie stood beside him near the lifeless body.  Shelly lay on her right side with her slender right arm curled under her and her left arm thrown to the side.  Her lovely face was nearly covered by her long silver-gilt hair.  "Do we have a time of death yet?" she asked.

         "Around midnight, but I'll let you know for sure after the autopsy," he replied.

         "Cause?" Stephanie asked, kneeling beside the young woman.  Something had caught her eye.  On Shelly's upper left arm was a tattoo, a familiar one.  Painted in blue was a crescent moon surrounded by thirteen stars that contrasted brightly with her ivory skin.

         "Looks like aspyxiation," George replied, noting Stephanie's interest.  "I see you found the tattoo."

         Standing,Stephanie smoothed down her navy skirt.  "Yes, so I believe we officially have a serial killer on the loose."

         "Well, good luck, kiddo, becaue we've found absolutely no fingerprints," George informed her.  "And no indication that she was actually murdered."

         "Maybe the place was wiped clean," Stephanie countered.

         "Maybe, but that still doesn't explain the asphyxiation.  If somebody choked her there would be some marks around her neck. I've seen nothing.  And it doesn't look like she ate or drank anything prior to her death.  But I'll give you a full report later on."

         "Who found her?"

         "Her husband.  He's downstairs in the study."

         Touching George's bulky arm, she smiled.  "Thanks.  I'll talk to you later."



         Derek Walken sat in his desk chair facing the window that overlooked the mountainous drop toward the ocean. "Mr. Walken?"

         Derek turned to her and allowed his gaze to travel down, then back up, Stephanie's lanky frame.  His eyes, large and emerald green, seemed to bore into her in a way that felt disconcerting.  Stephanie had read about Derek Walken and knew that he was in his mid-fifties, but he appeared to keep himself in very good shape.  His six foot two inch frame was devoid of extra fat and casually adorned in gray slacks and a short sleeve white dress shirt.  His once completely jet black curly hair now possessed flecks of gray throughout, but his broad tanned face was unlined.  He is much better looking than his pictures,{i/}she decided.

         Standing up, he walked toward her, extending his hand.  "I'm Derek Walken."

         Gently grasping his lean fingers, she replied, "I'm Detective Stephanie Pierce with the Pennington Police Department.  I am sorry to disturb you at this time, but I need to ask you a few questions."

         "Of course, Detective.  Please sit down," he replied, directing her to one of the plush chairs in front of his expansive desk.  Once she was comfortably seated, he sat opposite of her.

         "I understand you found the body," she began.

         "Yes, I did.  I found her this morning around eight-thirty," he said sadly.

         "Were you with her last night?"

         Derek shook his head.  "I've been in San Francisco on business for the last week.  The last time I spoke with her was yesterday morning, when I called to let her know when I was coming home."

         "Did she mention any problems, any concerns she was having?"

         "No, nothing really pressing.  I arrived at our townhouse this morning around seven.  When the housekeeper told me that she didn't come home last night, I got worried.  I called some of her friends, and I discovered that her car was parked up here.  I came here and there she was."  His voice broke on that last sentence, and he took a deep breath to contain himself.

         "Does your wife have any enemies, any one who would want to hurt her?"

         Derek laughed shakily. "I imagine every lawyer has some enemies, but to my knowledge, no one would want to kill her.  Doe you believe this is a murder?"

         "We're just trying to cover all our bases, Mr. Walken.  Does anyone else besides the two of you have keys to the house?"

         "The housekeeper and the gardener, but they're the only ones.  We haven't been up here in at least a month, so they were probably the last ones to be here."

         "Would she bring anyone up here? Any friends?"

         Derek frowned thoughtfully for a minute. "We've had parties up here, but my wife has a relatively small circle of people she calls friends.  I can get you her address book if you like."

         "That would be helpful, thank you," Stephanie said. As Derek was standing up, she stopped him by saying, "I have one more question.  I noticed the tattoo on her left arm.  Do you know what it's for or what it means?"

         "Shelly told me it was something silly she did one summer while she was in college. She belonged to some organization back then that branded them when they joined."

         "Do you know the name of the organization?"

          Derek shook his head.  "She never told me.  Do you think that has something to do with what happened here?"

         "I was just curious about it, that's all.  It's a rather unique symbol."  Standing up, she pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to him.  "I'll keep in touch, Mr. Walken.  If you think of anything else, please call me."

         Derek smiled wanly, then walked over to his desk.  Reaching to pull the center drawer open, he pulled out a small red book. "This is Shelly's address book.  I found it on the steps outside when I came in.  I thought she dropped it from her purse."

         Stephanie pulled out a hankerchief from her purse and used it to take the address book from Derek's hands.  "Thank you. This might be useful." Still holding the book, she took a small plastic bag out of her purse and dropped the book inside.

         "If there's nothing else, I'll walk you to the door," Derek said politely but firmly, gesturing with his right hand toward the doorway.

         Before Stephanie walked out the door, she turned her hazel eyes back to Derek.  "I am sorry for your loss.  I will let you know if we find out anything."

         Smiling graciously, Derek followed her down the airy hallway and to the front door.  Only after she drove off did he allow his charming facade to fade into darkness.