Unhinged (26 page)

This was also the same day that Spider had met her.

Immediately he had started hitting on her, and I couldn't have known it was more for my benefit than his. I remembered letting him make an ass out of himself, so I wouldn't have to worry about him being a threat. Little did I know.

It still ate away at me that Paulina's body was never recovered. All the other victims were out in the open, never hidden, waiting to be stumbled upon. If Spider had killed Paulina, then where had he taken her body? Cops had dredged the canal that ran in the middle of Morrison Road and had turned up nothing. All the Dumpsters in a one-mile radius were searched, and not even a shoe was found.

Spider's car and mine were vacuumed, dusted, and inspected, so he didn't transport her anywhere unless she had been wrapped, head to foot, in a gigantic Ziploc bag. All I could come up with was that he had most likely borrowed a car and buried her somewhere off Chef Menteur Highway or in the marshes around Chalmette. Because Paulina's disappearance was in my mind, I got an itch to drive to the Dixie-Mart and check out the alley behind the store.

After I arrived, I sat for a while recalling the night's events. Everything played out the same, except for a detail that had been trampled with all the crap from the case.

The morning after the disappearance, when I was helped to my feet next to the Dumpster, I glanced through the side hatch and saw a pile of half-gallon containers of an old, discontinued Dixie-Mart brand ice cream. We threw away merchandise all the time, but this stuff had been in the freezer forever. At the time I thought it was odd it had finally been dumped but then forgot about it.

As I stared at the infamous spot next to the Dumpster, I realized there had been no time for anyone to clean out the freezer before they found me. And an idea hit me so hard it actually made me dizzy. It was too wild to even consider, but it was the only thing that made sense.

The double steel doors of Dixie-Mart were open to anyone who wanted to tour a gutted, half-burned store. I walked inside, dodging old metal carts and cinder blocks. A stale and moldy smell was amplified a hundred times. I also caught a whiff of ammonia, which was probably animal piss. The roof still covered portions of the store, but halfway toward the front, the rain fell in.

I walked only about thirty yards before I found myself in front of the freezer. It was still standing, door on its hinges.

I thought of the old crew and where they might be now. I figured they either quit or got transferred. I knew Robinson went to Chalmette and Donny Packard got moved to Veterans Boulevard.

The door was cracked open, and I grappled with myself to remain calm. A huge burst of cold fog would have escaped if the store was still in business. Now a pungent smell of decayed food that had been left for a bulldozer punched me in the face. No one had disturbed this area since Katrina except for scavengers. I backed away and coughed, nearly passing out. I could never describe this smell to anyone. I coughed again and fought the urge to vomit.

I became hot and sweaty as I reached for the large handle on the metal door.

Something crunched beneath my shoes. The front shelves by the door still had packages that once held merchandise: frozen dinners, orange juice concentrate, potpies, and so forth, smashed down to half their original height. But the packages of the same discontinued ice cream were in the back in the same exact spot as the day I quit. Even though the ice cream had melted long ago, the containers were thick and coated with wax, leaving the wall intact, though sagging a bit.

Apparently, from what I had seen on that day, only some of it had been thrown away. And here the rest of it was, but something didn't look right.

This had been what I used to call the ice cream wall. When the refrigeration worked, the freezer-burned blocks were stacked three feet deep from the floor to near the ceiling in bricklayer fashion, measuring five feet left to right, frozen over with a solid sheet of ice. If I didn't know about the Dumpster, I'd say no one had ever bothered with this stuff, and the managers had never cared about getting rid of it. It seemed more of a pain to chip it out, so they just let it stay in an igloo.

It took a little time for my nose to adjust to the new smell. I started to remove the somewhat flattened ice cream cartons and threw them behind me. I heard a noise, and rats scooted out around my feet and dashed out the door. I continued on, however, eventually able to see what was behind the old unwanted ice cream containers. My stomach turned. I saw bones. My eyes began to water as I took out my penlight and flashed it over a skull and ribs.

I stared at the decomposed body, still wearing the clothes Paulina had been wearing when she disappeared. I imagined a frozen Paulina behind that wall of ice cream slowly defrosting in the Katrina water. After the water drained, the whole strip mall had caught fire but was put out before the back of Dixie-Mart was destroyed. No one had bothered to check for bodies.

Then the guilt came as if it were waiting for me to be at my weakest. If I had done any number of things differently, she could still be alive. Was this destiny? I was born at a particular time, worked at a certain store, and went out with a girl who wound up dead at sixteen. Had all the cosmic forces come together to lead us to that fucking Dumpster?

It felt as if I had spent hours hovering over Paulina's body. I checked behind me to make sure no one had entered, and my neck cracked. I closed my eyes.

I wanted to report my finding immediately, but I couldn't. I was off the investigation and wouldn't be allowed to participate in the events following my revelation. I would probably even be scolded if not booted off the force. But I also had to think of Spider's mental state and what he might do if he saw this on the evening news. The best thing to do was leave her for now. No one could know until I was ready.

I
had finally solved the mystery of Spider's first apparent victim, my fiancée's sister, and there was no one I could share it with. I missed Ron as a confidant, and I couldn't tell Jennifer I had found Paulina yet. I'd probably catch hell for it later, but I knew she wouldn't be able to leave her sister there.

As I sat in my car in the Dixie-Mart parking lot, I wondered how the hell Paulina's body had ended up behind the wall of ice cream. The crime was committed after Dixie-Mart had closed. There was no report of a break-in that night, and it was impossible for Spider to have sneaked her in the next morning. No. Spider had to have had inside help—someone with a key and the alarm code.

A manager.

I thought about who Spider had been tight with, and Donny Packard came to mind. Everyone had considered him a cool manager, an adult who could hang out with the kids, and he was the one who hired Spider, along with Paulina and me. In fact, he had done all the hiring.

It dawned on me that he had always hung out with Spider when I wasn't around. I'd see them in the aisle together or in the break room, chatting like good chums. The other manager and assistant manager hated the punk reject. They called him the freak or the mutant. I also remembered that Spider usually wasn't scheduled with the other managers.

I left for Packard's house, tempted to call in my hunch, but I couldn't include Dorrick on this one. Was it my inexperience, ego, or hatred of Dorrick that tempted me to withhold information? I didn't know. It just felt right in my gut. My plan was to question Donny and see if I could trip him up, then call in my anonymous tip to Bienvenue.

I remembered where Donny lived because of a Halloween party I attended. He had dressed as Zorro and kept sticking people's butts with his plastic sword. His sexuality made sense now. He had never tried to hit on any of the women at the party, despite their willingness to flirt. He stayed with his male friends, getting them drinks all the time. To my knowledge, he never had a girlfriend, either.

I arrived in Bucktown. It was just short of entering Orleans Parish—David Duke country as was scribbled on some of the establishments' restroom stalls. Packard lived walking distance from Deanie's Seafood, one of my favorite places for soft-shell crab.

His street was paved but had no curbs, allowing the grass to meet asphalt. Several houses had reelection signs up for President Vorhees. If the Klan's ex-Grand Wizard, David Duke, was running again, he would certainly win the popular vote amongst the older locals.

As I approached Packard's home, I saw the windows of his modest stucco house rattle as if a door had been slammed, but no one was leaving through the front entrance. A dog began barking wildly, and I had a sinking feeling that someone had just gone out the back door.

Instinctively, I looked for movement in the cars parked around me, but all was quiet. I jumped out with my gun in hand and ran to the front door, fearing that this was another escape. I checked the door to see if it was open; then I banged hard, making the windows vibrate again.

“Donny, open up. It's Decland.” I scanned the neighborhood again for anything suspicious. The smell of dog shit and freshly cut grass hung in the air.

Ten seconds passed before I heard someone coming to the door. “Who is it?”

“Decland, from Dixie-Mart.”

The door opened. Donny stood there in a blue T-shirt and sweatpants. His sideburns had gone from pointed to square, level with his earlobes. “Deck, buddy. What brings you to Bucktown?”

Without saying another word, I entered the house and ran into the bedrooms first, checking the closets. I had to make certain that Spider wasn't still around. I could hear Donny in the living room asking me what was going on, but I could tell it wasn't the unsure tone of someone who was in the dark.

I paid no attention to him as I searched the bathroom and broom closet; then I saw the back door and looked out the window. The gate was taking its sweet time to creep closed.

Donny stared at me, and I knew what he was thinking. He had a guilty look that wasn't easily disguised.

“What are you looking for?”

“Spider. I know he's been here.”

“Spider? That crazy serial killer? I still can't believe we ever worked with him. Why would he be here?”

“I found where you and Spider left Paulina. Can I check
your
freezer?” I waited for his reaction.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” He approached me. I raised my gun, and he raised his hands. “Whoa. There's no need for that. C'mon, man, we used to work together. What am I going to do? You're a cop.”

“Exactly. Open the freezer and start taking everything out of it. Now.” I knew I wasn't following proper police procedure, but I was desperate. I had come this far and had to know if Spider had sought sanctuary here.

Without a warrant, any evidence actually found would be tossed out in a court of law. But I didn't want to think about that. I was here, and it was all unfolding before me. Besides, if I didn't check now, Donny would surely get rid of every trace of Spider after I left. In my mind, I didn't need police procedure. It was now or never. Fuck my badge.

Donny swallowed hard and opened the freezer door. Frosty air came shooting out, exposing TV dinners and wrapped meats. He started taking out the items, throwing them near my feet. As he got to the last of the merchandise, I saw two little medallions wrapped in aluminum foil, one on top of the other.

“Let me see those.” I holstered my weapon, and he threw them to me. I ran my thumb across one of them, making a line through the thin film of frost.

Donny sprinted to the front door, but he was stopped before I could react. It seemed that Agents Dorrick and Zachary were following me after all and entered Donny's house at just the right moment.

“Where are you going in such a rush, Mr. Packard?” Dorrick held Donny with one arm twisted behind his back. “Cuff him, Zachary.”

I walked into the living room and tossed the frozen nipples on the coffee table by Dorrick's leg. I waited to get either a congratulations or a new asshole. “I don't suppose your boys waved hi to Spider as he was escaping,”