Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel) (23 page)

He had added two special additions for this time. He had sown a thin pocket into the lining of his overalls. An ice pick slid easily into the pocket and disappeared from sight. It was instantly available for him though. Last, he put a small box of pins into his pocket.

He had been waiting patiently, prepared to go at a moment’s notice. Tonight was supposed to be the night.

*

Dear Mr. Lewery,

Although you continue to ignore my warnings, I still want to have some faith in you.

You will find out soon that not everyone is as innocent as you think. My next target is a liar and pervert whose sickness touches everyone he knows. I alone know the truth of his crimes but soon the world will know. YOU will know. Soon, my latest target will know that he cannot hide from me. He cannot hide from the world. His perversions will finally be known and I will be vindicated. You will have proof of what he is.

They think themselves invincible, untouchable. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The guilty will pay and I am the collection officer.

Don’t miss my message. Make sure you print it. Tell the world the truth and it will set you free.

The alternative is to join them. And my enemies pay with their lives. Don’t be my enemy, Dale. I don’t want to be your enemy because I make war on my enemies. And this is a war you cannot win.

Yours sincerely,

A still-suspicious friend and victim who has refused to take it anymore…from anyone.

PS: I know the police will read my letter so I add this for them. Can those bullies protect their own and stop me in time? Warm and wet he will come forth but a missing pair of hands might let him fall. While he makes the bald man cry, I will bring his secret to the world. Save him if you can so the young will not fall.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dale said, putting the letter down. “Now he’s challenging us with riddles? This is almost too perfect but what does it mean?”

“Warm and wet,” Munro said. “How does the guy get warm and wet? Blood maybe? But it sounds more like the guy is going to be warm and wet before the murder.”

“A swimmer!” Dale said, snapping his fingers. “The next victim is a swimmer! He’s going to kill a swimmer.”

“Are there any competitions in the city right now?” Munro asked, picking up the phone. He dialed an extension and tapped his pencil impatiently as he waited for the line to be answered. “It’s Munro on the City Desk. Are there any swimming competitions going on right now?”

Munro listened and made a couple notes. “Thanks,” he said, hanging up.

“Well?” asked Dale.

“There’s a meet at the University. It’s got something to do with Olympic trials or something.”

“But what about the hands thing? Swimmers don’t fall, they drown.”

“I don’t know but it’s the best I can think of right now. Maybe a coach? Maybe Mann’s guys will come up with something more.”

The smoke swirled past the lights and hovered in the air like the English countryside in an old black and white movie. The movement of the tall waitress or an open door twisted it into small whirlwinds. Then quickly settled in the heavy air until the next disturbance sent them dancing across the room. Tobacco smoke was not allowed but the customers ended up coughing up a lung just so the lights looked cool.

The waitress stopped at his table, bringing a burst of perfume. He let her scent settle over him before he shook his head. She shrugged and moved off. He watched her ass move under the tight jeans. He had been watching her move around the room for over two hours. Two hours of putting up with this God awful band and watching his next target.

Targets, they were targets. The newspapers and television called them victims but that was bullshit. They were anything but victims. They preyed on the victims. They created the victims.

They were scum that deserved to be eliminated. Lewery had better get with the program or he was going to learn first hand what these
victims
had endured.

Deliberately, he released his hand from around his glass. Every time he thought about the media, he got angry. He had tried to make them understand. He needed them to know the truth. Why had Lewery turned against him?

When he looked up again, he panicked. Where had he gone? He wasn’t at the same table, eating his wings and watching the band. Then, he saw him. He was standing at the end of the bar. He was getting his credit card back from the bartender.

“This it, George?” asked the bartender.

“Doctor says so. Guess I’d better get on my horse.”

“Did you get the hospital room changed over?” the bartender asked.

“No, thank you very much. Here, give this to Suzanne,” Logan said, motioning to the lead singer. “I might as well make her night and let her know that the company is going to represent the band.”

“Oh, man. She is going to go nuts. Thanks George.”

He watched him leave the bar. He didn’t hurry after him. They did that in the movies. One man leaves and then someone rushes after him. Everyone remembers. And memorable people get caught. Besides, he knew exactly where Logan was going. He had plenty of time. He would finish his drink and then casually leave. Nobody would remember him. Nobody ever did.

Degget shoved the hanger over so he could look at the next suit. Arnie might be right about these SOCU guys all wearing three piece suits but their taste was for shit. And they weren’t selling out cops for money to buy clothes. Everything was cheap fabric, off the rack crap. Nothing tailored. A few nice things that were likely presents but definitely no big money on clothes.

He moved over to the wife’s side and saw the same thing. A bit better quality but none of the clothing was above the pay grade. No furs. No expensive jewelry unless they keep it locked up somewhere else and nothing on fingers or ears that amounted to squat.

Degget checked his watch. He figured he had at least another hour but wanted to finish up in twenty minutes to be sure. He moved downstairs to the den and rifled through files. Things were organized better than the last one he had gone through but it still didn’t give him anything. He was halfway through the squad with nothing to show for it.

If you look at anyone hard enough, you would find something bent. Downloading bootleg movies, some kinky sex, drinking, drugs, affairs and gambling but nothing that made Degget suspicious of any of the squad. Everybody had the same bills, pretty much the same outstanding amounts on their credit cards. No cars, boats or big toys that he couldn’t find sales slips for that didn’t have corresponding debt attached to it. No big cash outlays.

He opened the laptop on the desk and tapped a key with his gloved hands. The screen slowly glowed to life and Degget looked at the list of programs. He opened up the banking program. He shook his head when the program loaded without asking for a password. God, cops were stupid when it came to computer crime. He looked over the register, seeing nothing. He clicked on the credit card entries, glad to see they downloaded their statements every month. All the cards ran below the limit but they never paid them off. And most of the charges were for groceries, gas, movies, meals out – everything that a guy would spend unreported cash on.

He spent another five minutes going over the laptop, checking emails, browser history and any picture files that might show some hidden cottage or boat. All the vacations were just your basic family trips and few and far between.

Wandering through the house, he inventoried everything he could see. Big screen TV but everybody had one of those nowadays. They had the usual spoiled kids with lots of toys but nothing out of line.

Once again, all he found was lots and lots of nothing. Seven suspects down and six more to go. He thought he should feel dirty going through the personal lives of fellow cops. But he was still convinced that one of them had almost killed him. He just had to prove which one and that made everybody a suspect and fair game. Glancing at his watch again, he decided it was time to go.

Moving toward the back of the house, Degget took one last look around to be sure that he had everything back in place. At the door, he slipped his little booties off his shoes. Breaking in had been disgustingly easy. You would have thought cops would be more careful. Only one of them had an alarm system on their home – although two had stickers on the windows but no actual service – something that fooled only the amateurs.

Mentally he crossed another of the detectives off his list. He was quickly running out of suspects.

George Logan stretched his tired shoulders and yawned. He leaned forward and looked down the hallway. The clock on the wall said it was ten past three. There was a clock in each hallway. He wished he had the contract to sell clocks to hospitals. Whoever did was making a fortune.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. His mind was ricocheting from one inane subject to another. He should have been exhausted and yet he was wide awake. He considered going home and dismissed that thought immediately. He would just wander around the apartment until daybreak when he would return to the hospital.

He should be with his wife. But his cheap company’s insurance only covers a quad room. He was being silly but those curtains gave no privacy. And the first night he spent with his new son should be private. He didn’t want to share those quiet first night time moments and words with anyone but his new family.

He had tried to make a change in the room assignments. He had complained about it to everyone who would listen, including hospital staff, his boss, the guys at the bar and anybody in the waiting room. But no amount of complaining got anything changed. Besides, he had a lifetime of nights with his family. He could wait one more night to make a really special night.

He stood and left the small waiting area, beginning the same circuit he had taken three times already. He desperately needed to find a john because the closest one was under repair.

It was even quieter than his last walk. He hadn’t met a single person so far. With no distractions, his mind wandered back to his new family.

His wife had been so good. After the weeks in the hospital, the baby had just popped out with no problem at all. He was going to be a big one, just like his father. His
Father
. God, he was a dad.

They had planned the child. Brenda had gone off the patch and got pregnant three months later. Were they fertile or what? His brother had been trying for years now. His brother might have a bigger house and a BMW and a Lexus, but who had the better swimmers? The first grandchild, a son at that, has to count for more than a lousy trip to Hawaii once a year, right Mom?

Now, they had a baby boy that desperately needed a name. Randy was the best bet, named after his grandfather. Jesus, his folks were going to spoil the kid rotten. But, like they say, that’s what grandparents were for.

George smiled at the man mopping the floors and edged past the wet area. George had seen the same janitor twice that night. The guy must do the entire hospital. The washroom was ahead on the right. Without looking back, George pushed through the door.

*

Preston had arrived at the hospital well after his quarry. Millership had hurried while he had taken his time. Of course, he knew exactly where Millership would be. It was all about preparation and planning. They didn’t stand a chance against his intellect.

His disguises were getting cleverer. Who would suspect a lowly janitor? He knew the layout of the hospital what with all those vending machines to audit. He knew every washroom, every exit, and every nurse’s station. More importantly, he knew where every security camera was. They would have virtually nothing and what they might get would be all wrong.

He had found Jane Degenfeld here. He hadn’t needed a disguise then while he kept watch on the little slut. But this time needed a bit more planning and some luck. Still, it was all so easy. Anyone could walk in and get the necessary supplies. And, the overalls were perfect for his purposes. When he was finished, he could just strip them off and walk away.

All he had to do was keep busy.

For over three hours, he had been working his tail off. And, the floors never looked better. For hours, he had waited while that baby took its sweet time. But eventually, Millership would be out here. Preston knew Millership wasn’t staying with his wife. As always, he knew everything because he was always there, listening, planning, preparing. He should have done this ten months ago and there would have been one less of them to reproduce.

He might even have to kill Millership’s kid. It would be best not to allow the line to continue. The gene pool was already polluted enough.

When the washroom door swung shut, he leaned the mop against the wall and rolled the bucket out of the way. He reached in the secret pocket of the overall and brought out the ice pick.

Without further preparation, he headed for the washroom. He broke out in an instant cold sweat as he realized the similarities between here and the school.

*

The hall had been better lit and lockers had lined the walls. He hated having to ask the teacher to go to the bathroom. It was so embarrassing to have all the girls know where you were going. He held it as long as he could but now he had to go bad.

He opened the bathroom door quietly. He always did. He hated to announce that he was entering. He hated using public washrooms almost as much he hated asking to use them. If he had pushed the door open like the other guys did, he would never have had the problem.

Somebody else was in one of the cubicles. As quietly as possible, he moved to one of the urinals. If he hurried, he would be done before whoever even knew he was there. But, first he had trouble with his fly. The harder he fought the more it stuck. He barely got it out of his pants before he started peeing.

Then, he heard the noises.

At first, he thought the guy was just laying a big one. The grunts weren’t ones of pain, though. Then, he saw the stuff splash on the floor. Every guy recognizes that when it hits the floor. That was the precise moment that he knew he was in trouble.