Night Mask (3 page)

“Shit!” Lani said. She knew what that meant. Sealed records. It would take a court order to open them, and that wasn't very damn likely to happen.

“You got it,” Zanetis said, eyeballing the rise and fall of Lani's breasts.

“Any chance of opening them?” Leo asked.

“Not a prayer. Wouldn't do you any good, even if a judge gave the order. They've been destroyed.”

“Why?”

“Well, I found out after you called that the suspect is dead. Died about a year after the first girl was murdered. I called, but you and your partner had already left.”

“Do you have a name?”

Bill shook his head. “No.”

“The second girl was a copycat murder?” Lani asked.

“I guess so. But no one was ever caught.”

Lani had a sudden thought, but she would wait to share it with Leo. All Bill Zanetis had on his mind was looking at her tits.

* * *

“Dead end,” Leo said glumly, as they sat in the rented car.

“Maybe not,” Lani said. “I had a thought in there, while the good detective was eyeballing my tits ... ”

“Jesus, Lani. You have a dirty mouth, you know that?”

She laughed at the expression on her partner's face. “Just suppose, for the sake of argument, that our killer is a really bright fellow. Genius I.Q. Even as a child, a devious, cunning, and very careful planner ... ”

“I'm with you. He plants evidence on some poor kid, and then kills him to throw off the scent.”

“Right.”

Leo shook his head. “We're reaching, but I'm game.” He dropped the car into gear. “Where to?”

“Ever been to a Catholic school, Leo?”

“For the first eight long, miserable years of my academic life,” he said glumly. “We called one of our teachers the Nun from Hell.”

The California cops struck out at the school. None of the nuns had been there when the two murders had occurred, and none of the priests at the adjoining church knew anything about any murders.

“You might try Father Daniel,” a young priest told them, walking the cops out of the church and back to their car. “I know he was here during that time frame.”

“He's retired?” Lani asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” the young priest said with a smile. He wrote an address on a slip of paper and handed it to her. “You'll find him working there. He owns the business.”

Lani looked at the paper. “Dan's Flowers?”

“Yes. Good day.”

Father Daniel was a very pleasant man in his late fifties. “Not Father anymore,” he told them. “I got married and kicked out on my butt. My wife works downtown. What can I do for you folks?”

Leo took it and explained.

“Ah, yes. I remember those murders well. I'll go to my grave believing that little shit Jack Longwood killed them both.”

Lani perked up. “Jack Longwood?”

“He was nine years old when the first murder happened, ten when the second one occurred. The devil's own child, that one.”

“You don't mean that in the Biblical sense, do you?” Lani asked.

“Indeed, I do,” the ex-priest said flatly. “The boy was born with the mark of Satan on him. Just being around him caused the hair on the back of my neck to rise up, and created chill bumps on my flesh. He was a born liar, thief, sadist, pervert, and God alone knows what else. Oh, and a murderer, too. At least in my opinion.”

“Where is he now?” Leo asked.

“In Hell, I hope. How about some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

Lani and Leo waited while Dan took two phone orders and then the three of them sat down on stools behind the counter, mugs of coffee before them.

“Jack and Jim Longwood. Rich boys. Their parents were very very wealthy.”

Were? Leo thought. “From around here?”

“Yes. Jack was a twin. His brother, Jim, left here right after their parents were murdered. That was back in, oh, let's see, '79, I think it was. You can find all the details on microfilm at the newspaper offices.”

“The murderer ever caught?” Lani asked, a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

“No. Of course, it was Jack. Or maybe Jim. I always had doubts about him, too.”

“The officials at the school weren't too helpful in this matter,” Leo said. “I can't believe some of them didn't know about this.”

“Oh, they knew. They all know. Even the newest additions know. I think it's required study. But you couldn't get them to talk about it under torture. All records of the twins were ordered destroyed years ago.”

“By whom?”

“Church officials, I presume. I really don't know. I had been, ah, seduced by the pleasures of the flesh and booted out when that happened.” He laughed, and it was a good laugh, full of humor. “But that's another story. Jack and Jim Longwood. They'd be ... well, about thirty-two or thirty-three now. And no, I do not have any idea where either of them might be.”

“Their parents' wealth?”

“After their murders?” Dan shrugged. “I guess the boys got it. The mansion is still standing, unoccupied. The story I hear is that it cannot be sold, ever.”

“Why?”

“The boys ordered it, I suppose. It's one of the town's mysteries. Longwood's lawyers were, and still are, I suppose, in New York City. Good luck in trying to find them. No one around here can. Or if they can, they're not talking.”

“So the boys would be wealthy?” Leo asked.

“Oh, my God, yes. Worth millions of dollars. Longwood was just as peculiar as his offspring, so he set things up in such a way that neither of them could ever touch the bulk of the estate. They would receive a check each month for the rest of their lives. A very substantial check, I'm told.”

“That'll be easy to trace,” Lani said.

“Wrong,” Dan said bluntly. “Police around here gave up on that years ago. You see, the boys changed their names. They just vanished. But they're alive. Bet on that. They're too evil to die. You're here because of what the newspapers are calling the Ripper case, right?”

Lani nodded her head.

“Jack and Jim. I'd bet a place in Heaven it's them.”

“But Jim—”

“Was the careful one,” Dan cut him off. “The cautious one. The charmer. They were good-looking boys. They would be very handsome men ... in an effeminate way. But not big men. The Longwood family was short, traditionally. They would be five-seven, maybe. Maybe less.”

Dan looked up as the door opened. “Ah, Sally. Right on time. Sally, handle things here for a time. I have to run some errands.”

“Glad to, Mr. Jennings,” she said.

“Let's go,” Dan said to the cops.

“Where are we going?” Leo asked.

“I'll show you,” he replied mysteriously. “We'll take my car.”

They drove out of town and turned down a winding county road, finally stopping in front of a locked wrought-iron gate. Inside the walled estate, stood the house.

“The Longwood mansion,” Leo said.

“Correct,” Dan said. “To the best of my knowledge, not a living soul has set foot in that place in fifteen years.”

“Where are the Longwoods buried?” Lani asked.

“No one knows. And I'm not kidding. No one knows where they are buried. If they're buried.”

“And you think Jack Longwood killed his parents?” Leo asked.

“Or Jim. Jim is just as capable of doing that as Jack.”

“The boys are mentally ill, then?” Lani asked.

The ex-priest shook his head. “No, they're not. They're just evil.”

* * *

Back at the motel, over lunch, Lani said, “I want to go inside that mansion, Leo.”

“You're reading my mind. We'll have to break in.”

“That bother you?”

He grinned.

* * *

The two California cops parked behind the estate, in a clump of trees and thick brush, and went over the walls, making their way to the rear of the huge mansion. They carried flashlights—but would not use them until they were in the building—and had extra batteries in their pockets. There was enough moonlight for them to avoid falling into the long-emptied swimming pool, and to dodge the many statues that were placed about the grounds.

The ex-priest had told them that no one had ever broken into the mansion, for the security system was an elaborate one. It took Leo about sixty seconds to bypass the alarm box, and then Lani jimmied a back door, and they were inside.

Sheets covered the furniture and a thin layer of dust lay everywhere. Cobwebs hung in corners. Rat and mice droppings were very much in evidence. Lani cast the small beam of her flashlight along the walls. They both could see where the valuable paintings had been removed—either to be sold or stored; they had no way of knowing.

“Do we split up?” Lani asked.

“No,” Leo said quickly. “I don't like this place. And I have a hunch those two weirdos just might have left some unpleasant surprises behind. Be very careful in moving about.”

“I'm with you on that.”

As they began their search of the huge old home, the word that popped into the minds of both cops was: Spooky.

They expected to find nothing on the first floor, and that is exactly what they found.

Lani and Leo stood at the base of the stairway and looked up into the darkness.

“Dan said the parents were axed to death while they slept,” Lani broke the silence.

“Yeah. And that Jim Longwood left right after the murders.”

“I wonder if the bedroom ... ?” She trailed that off.

“You know as well as I do it's just as the cops left it.”

“Wonderful,” she said drily. “Who goes first?”

Leo smiled. “Ladies first, dear.”

“You're such a gentleman.”

“I do try.”

She started up the dark stairway, and Leo closed a hand around her forearm and stepped in front of her. “No way, kid. Stay three steps behind me and to my left. You know the drill.”

“What the hell do you think is up there, Leo?”

“I don't know. Probably nothing. But this place is giving me the creeps.”

“You're not alone.”

They made their way cautiously up to the second floor of the home, and stood for a moment on the thick and dusty carpet.

“This stuff must have cost seventy-five dollars a square foot,” Lani remarked.

“And speaking of feet,” Leo said, lowering his beam of light to the carpet.

After all the years, the stains left by bloody feet were plain in the carpet. Lani used her narrow beam of light to backtrack the stains. They led to a room at the end of the hall. The yellow tape with the black lettering was still in place. CRIME SCENE—DO NOT CROSS.

“My God,” Leo said. “To leave that much blood ...”

“Yeah,” Lani agreed. “He must have wallowed in the gore. Look.” She lifted the light to the hall wall. Bloody handprints were still staining the wallpaper. Huge handprints.

“He wore gloves,” Leo said, kneeling down to more closely inspect the stains on the carpet. “Five will get you ten he wore rubber boots. Interesting. The prints stop right here.” He stood up.

“He took off his boots right where we're standing, and probably walked off in his stocking feet.”

“Yeah. This is one cold bastard.”

Together, they walked down the hall to the bedroom and stood for a moment, shining their lights into the room. As the beams touched the walls, both of them were thankful that they had not been the ones to work this when it was fresh.

It was carnage.

Bloodstains spattered the walls, and there were even bloodstains on the ten-foot-high ceiling. The sheets had been stripped from the bed as evidence, but long before the local cops had arrived, the blood had seeped through and stained the entire top of the king-sized mattress. There were handprints all over the walls, matching those in the hall.

“He played in the blood,” Lani whispered.

“Yeah. Look over there.” Leo shone the light.

“What is
that?”

“I don't know. Some sort of a symbol. Did you remember to load the camera?”

She gave him a dirty look, and before shooting some film of the strange symbols, checked to see if the drapes in the room were all closed. They were. The flash would not be seen outside. Lani took several shots, then moved closer. “I know what these are. They're music notes.”

“Is it a song?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. I've got a tin ear when it comes to music. You're looking at a kid who failed music appreciation.”

“Back up and get the whole sequence, will you?”

That done, the cops moved out of the bedroom and opened the first door past the landing. It was like stepping back in time. The posters were all of musicians and songs of the nineteen thirties, forties, and fifties; movie stars of the same periods. Lani pointed to a stereo and records beside it. They were both wearing gloves, so she thumbed through the albums. There was no rock music. Everything was smooth ballads and big band.

“This was,
is
a very weird kid,” Lani said.

“In more ways than one,” Leo said, shining his light on a bookshelf filled with paperbacks and magazines. Cross-dressing, homosexuality, bi-loving, bondage, S and M, and worse.

“Jesus!” Lani whispered, her eyes taking in the titles and covers. “Talk about a twisted sister. The only thing that isn't here is bestiality.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Leo said. He picked a Bible off another shelf and opened it. “This was Jack's room. Inscription is made out to him.” He fanned the pages and grunted in disbelief. “Look at this. Obscenities and filth of the worst kind written on every page.”

“No sign of satanism, though,” Lani said, peering over his shoulder. “He just hates religion. Close it, Leo. I feel funny reading crap like that in a Bible.”

“Me, too.” Leo put the Bible in the small bag he'd brought and they left that room, heading into the room across the hall. Jim's room. It was almost identical to the other brother's room: posters from the same time periods, and music from the same periods. And the same types of books and magazines.

“Does it strike you as odd that their parents would allow this type of perversion to be so prominently displayed, Leo?”

“Very. But some parents never go into their children's rooms. Remember that lawsuit back home, where the kid won the right to privacy?”

“Oh, yeah. But surely they peeked in when the kids were gone?”

Leo shrugged. “You never know about the rich. They're different from the rest of us.”

She looked at him. “How so?”

Leo smiled. “They have more money!”