The Beast (25 page)

“Great to be useful, if only to act the buffoon. I have a lesson with
Nick at USC. I’ll be done by noon. Want to meet for lunch, Rina?”

“One would work perfectly.” She smiled at Decker. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“Thanks for the invite but I got plans—mortuaries and hookers. Can’t get more primal than sex and death.”

AT THREE IN
the afternoon, Marge and Oliver interrupted Decker and his paperwork. They had been out in the field but looked none the worse for wear. Marge was dressed in her usual sweater and slacks; Oliver had on a blue blazer, slacks, and a white shirt with no tie. Decker pointed to the chairs, and they sat down.

Oliver said, “Darius Penny just called from the private airport. He’ll be here at six.”

“Sounds good,” Decker said.

“The mortuaries we visited.” Marge placed a list on his desk. “We went through six. No one admitted to any thefts of body parts.”

“Why would they?” Oliver said. “That would imply incompetence.” He got up. “Anyone for coffee?”

“Two Splendas and lots of milk,” Marge said.

“Black,” Decker said.

“Be right back,” Oliver grumped.

Marge said, “We’re not getting anywhere. I think we’re on the wrong track.”

“Speak to me.”

“I called up Dr. Spar again to ask if she found any embalming solution in the frozen fingers. She hadn’t.”

“So you don’t think the fingers came from mortuaries?”

“They weren’t taken from embalmed bodies, but Dr. Spar is pretty convinced that the fingers were taken off postmortem. To me, that’s says psycho souvenirs.”

“Penny’s a sadistic killer who removed the fingers of the women he murdered?”

“Well, both Paxton and the Shoops saw girls going into the apartment. Maybe some went in and but didn’t come out.”

Decker said, “I don’t recall a spate of hooker killings. Besides, SID went over Penny’s other apartment with luminol and all they found was animal blood.”

“Animal blood contaminated with human blood.”

“Okay, let’s go with your theory,” Decker said. “Suppose he did kill women? How would an old man get rid of the body?”

“He had a tiger, Pete.”

“Now, there’s an image. An eighty-nine-year-old sexual psychopath feeding his victims to his tiger. I don’t buy it, Marge. It’s not that old psychos don’t exist. But I’m not loving the logistics of an old man chopping off fingers and feeding bodies to his wild animals. There would be a ton of blood all over the place.”

Oliver came in and handed out the coffees. “We’re back to Penny being a psycho?” He sat down. “Judging from his ex-wife’s account, he was a psycho. But I’m thinking about him now: a very elderly man killing women and chopping off fingers and disposing of the bodies. It’s a little hard to picture.”

“The fingers were frozen for a long time,” Marge said. “Maybe they were crimes of his youthful past.”

“Interesting,” Oliver said. “Why would Penny keep his souvenirs among his packages of tiger meat? Why not keep them in a place of honor?”

“Because a freezer is the only place you can keep body parts fresh,” Marge said.

“Hold on a moment. Let me get my list.” Decker rummaged through a file until he found what he wanted. “There were six index fingers—two right, four left—six big fingers—five right, one left—six ring fingers—three and three—and seven pinkies all from the right hand. No thumbs. We’re definitely working with more than one woman.”

“Unless she was Anne Boleyn.” When Decker looked blank, Marge said, “The beheaded queen supposedly had six fingers on each hand. It was a bad joke.”

Decker gave her the courtesy of a half smile. “Let’s play this out. Penny was a psycho killer who took fingers for souvenirs. But the
fingers were frozen together in one big lump, indicating that the digits were put into the package at the same time. I know that all it takes is a single bullet to kill someone, but do you really see Penny killing multiple women and disposing of multiple bodies in just a few sessions?”

Everyone agreed that it didn’t make sense. Marge said, “Have you run any of the prints through AFIS?”

“We have a few decent prints, but it’s an involved process to bring them back,” Decker told her. “The ones we’ve run have come up empty.”

“Too bad,” Marge said.

“Let’s try a different approach,” Decker suggested. “Penny had a lot of exotic pets with different dietary needs. Some of the meat came from the grocery, but not all of it. What if Penny had sketchy people who delivered him meat at a discount, people less concerned with safety conditions. Maybe Penny didn’t know what he had. We should still find out who supplied Penny’s animals.”

Oliver said, “You’re referring to Vignette Garrison.”

“Gabe told me that the accountant at Global Earth Sanctuary stated that most of the expense came from feeding the animals,” Decker told them. “Maybe supplying food for Penny’s animals was an easy way for Global Earth to make a few extra bucks.”

Marge said, “I could understand one finger, Pete, but an entire package of digits?”

Decker conceded the point. “Still, the remains were mixed in with the animal meat. There’s no harm in asking Vignette about her food sources. She’s always hungry for money. I’m sure she supplied food for Penny’s animal, taking a service charge for herself or the organization.” He smiled at his detectives. “Pay her a visit bright and early tomorrow morning and ask her directly.”

DECKER WAS STILL
debating whether or not to call Donatti when his desk phone beeped. He depressed the button. “This is Lieutenant Decker.”

“Dr. Delaware is calling you back, sir.”

“Oh yeah. Thanks.” He pressed the blinking line. “This is Lieutenant Peter Decker.”

“Dr. Alex Delaware returning your call.”

“Thanks for calling back, Doctor Delaware. Do you have a moment?”

“I do.”

“I need your services. Not personally, although it might be a good idea in the future. In this instance, it’s a case.”

“It must be involved if you’re asking for my help.”

“It is.”

“Can you sum up the case for me in a couple of sentences?”

“Sure. It’s a homicide case: an eighty-nine-year-old reclusive man suffered a gunshot wound to the back and blunt force trauma to the head. He was very rich, but he lived like a pauper. He was estranged from his family, but his foundation and his will and estate were still handled by his son’s firm. His actual investments are handled by others. Besides the son, he also has a daughter. Both of them are wealthy on their own. His primary source of companionship seemed to be an adult female Bengal tiger that he had raised from a cub.”

“The inventor, Hobart Penny. I read about him in the papers.”

“Yes, Hobart Penny. Not only did he have a tiger in his apartment, but he also collected other venomous and poisonous animals, mostly snakes but also lethal fish and insects. When he was younger, his ex-wife said he had a predilection for wild sex and fetishes. She also told my detectives that he felt like a tiger trapped in a man’s body. I don’t know if that was still true as he aged. We also have reasons to think that he had prostitutes visiting him, even though he was eighty-nine and infirm. We’re wondering if they had something to do with his death, too. He’s just a very puzzling guy.”

“I can see that. So how can I help you?”

“I’m not sure. I’m thinking if I could get a peek into his head, maybe that would help me with the case.”

“All right. Let me do some research and I’ll call you back.”

“That would be great.” A pause. “How much do you charge?”

“As long as we keep it to a couple of phone calls, don’t worry about my fee. Just tell me what you want.”

“Basically, I’d like to get a feel for what made him hum, and who would want to kill him.”

“That’s a two-part sentence, Lieutenant,” Delaware said. “The first part I may be able to help you with. The second part is strictly your domain.”

O
RIGINALLY GRACIELA JOHANNESBOURGH
was supposed to arrive Tuesday morning. Instead, on Monday evening, she walked into the station house with her younger brother, Darius Penny, at straight up six. Marge put them in an interview room outfitted with coffee, water, and doughnuts, although Marge was doubtful that Graciela had ever eaten a doughnut in her life. She was in her fifties and stick thin with a tight jawline and a made-up face that canted slightly to the right. It almost looked like a coquettish gesture had Marge not known her medical background. Graciela had blue eyes and coiffed blond hair that grazed her shoulders. Dressed in a black sweater and slacks and a bright orange blazer, she wore a gold chain around her neck and diamond studs in her ears.

Her brother, Darius Penny, was dressed in an upscale lawyer’s uniform: charcoal gray suit, white shirt, and red tie. He was Marge’s height, around five ten, with blue eyes. His hair, or what was left of it, was silver.

As the two siblings sat down, they talked softly. Graciela pulled
a compact out of a pink leather bag and checked her lipstick. Marge noticed the Hermès label.

Marge said, “Is that a Birkin?”

Graciela looked up. “Yes, it is.”

“It’s beautiful.” Part of her comment was to gain rapport. Part of it was genuine curiosity. “I’ve never seen one in the flesh.”

“Take a look.” Graciela handed Marge the handbag. “I have two of them. I bought this one ages ago to cheer me up. I know you called up the foundation and spoke to Holly. I have cervical dystonia. My head almost touched my shoulder, my neck was so twisted.”

“I looked the condition up on the Internet. You’d never know anything was wrong today by your physical appearance.”

“Kind of you to say. Thank God for Botox. I was terribly disfigured. I wouldn’t have made it through except for a wonderful husband and a very supportive brother.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Penny said.

“You visited me religiously, even when I told you to go away.” She turned to Marge. “I was a shut-in.” A throaty laugh. “In the last fifteen years, I’ve been making up for it.”

Oliver and Decker came into the room. After all the introductions were made, everyone sat down. Marge held out the bag to Graciela. “That is truly a work of art.”

“Take it,” Graciela told her. When Marge smiled at the humor and tried to hand it back, Graciela said, “I’m serious. Spread the cheer, you know.”

Marge was wide-eyed. “Uh, thank you, but I’m going to have to decline.”

Graciela shrugged and threw the bag on the table. Penny took out a file folder and began sorting through pages. “I called the mortuary, which in turn called up the county morgue. The body will be released tomorrow. The funeral service will be at four-thirty tomorrow afternoon. Everything will be done at the grave. I suspect my sister and I will be the only ones in attendance, unless you want to show up. No pressure.”

Graciela said, “Sabrina will come down.”

“Oh yes. I forgot about her. So that makes three. A veritable crowd for Dad.” Penny put on a pair of reading glasses and regarded his papers. “Did anyone ever get hold of a person from Global Sanctuary?”

“I did,” Decker said.

“Is that place a con job?” Penny asked. “Dad was always ripe for a good con.”

“No, it’s legitimate. I was there.”

“You were? How long ago?”

“Just five days ago, right after your dad passed.”

“What is it? An animal sanctuary?”

“Exactly. It’s where animal control took your father’s tiger.”

Marge asked Graciela, “Did you know about the tiger?”

“Not until Darius told me last week . . . although I wouldn’t have done anything, even if I had known. Dad could take care of himself.”

Marge raised an eyebrow, and Penny caught it. He said, “Dad was difficult.”

“Difficult?” Graciela rolled her eyes. “That implies he was normal but cranky. I should be respectful of the dead. I should be a lot of things I’m not. My father was insane. Before insane, he was just plain mean. If he has any laudable attributes, I don’t know of them.”

“He was kind to the tiger,” Marge said.

“Well, there you go. Learn something new every day.”

Penny said, “Tell me about this place—Global Sanctuary.”

Decker said, “Would you like to visit? We’re going tomorrow. You’re welcome to come.”

“Will you be back in time for the funeral? Say by three-thirty or four?”

“We should be,” Oliver said. “But I can’t promise anything.”

“I’ll follow you there with a car service.”

Graciela said, “We picked a casket over the phone. What’s there to do other than putting him in the ground?” She turned to her brother. “Did you call a minister to handle the service?”

“The funeral home is providing one. Good enough.”

“You’re right. Because anything I’d say wouldn’t be very nice.”

Penny smiled. “Try to be forgiving.”

“I’m here, right?”

“Yes, you are.” Penny turned to Marge. “When are you going to this Global place?”

“Around ten.”

“Do you have directions?”

Decker said, “I suggest you all go in one car, Mr. Penny. The place is in the mountains. It’s hard to find. You should be back by two-thirty unless there’s terrible traffic.”

“Okay.” Penny was still shuffling papers. “I’ll be here, ready to go, at ten of.”

Decker said, “May I ask your reason for wanting to visit the sanctuary?”

“Dad left them two million dollars. It’s a small proportion of his estate, but it’s not an insignificant amount of money.”

“It’s a lot of Birkin bags,” Graciela said.

Penny smiled. “As the executor of the will, by law I am bound to follow Dad’s instructions. But before any checks go out, I want to make sure this place had nothing to do with his demise.” He put the papers down. “I suppose you can’t guarantee that until you find out who did this. Where are you in the investigation?”

Decker regarded the lawyer. “You know, usually in murder cases, you get your suspects by following the money. I don’t know if you’re bound by confidentiality, but if you could tell us where your father’s money is going, it might help.”

“Confidentiality is arguable, since he’s deceased.” Penny picked up the papers. “But I suppose no one from the estate is going to sue me if I talk.”