Anointest My Head With Oil

by Debbie Viguié

  “So, what did you do on the outside?” he asked, quickly changing the subject as he moved again.

  She chuckled. “On the outside makes it sound like this is a prison.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’re right. It is like a prison. You can see the outside world, but the walls and staff are all here to keep you firmly inside. People tell us when to eat, when to rest, when to do everything,” she answered with a roll of her eyes.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t made a jailbreak,” he said, continuing to play.

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. I hate being cooped up. I used to move a lot. I enjoyed seeing new places, meeting new people. In here it’s the same old people day after day. Except you. You’re new. And I’m still trying to figure out what you’re doing here.”

  “I’m here visiting a relative,” Mark said.

  “No, you’re not,” she contradicted him.

  He smiled. She was one shrewd old lady. “Then let’s just say I’m here for the game of chess.”

  “In that case, it’s time for you to be on your way then,” she said. She moved one of her pieces. “Check and mate.”

  Mark shook his head as he tipped over his king. He stood up to go. “You are one shrewd game player,” he said.

  She smiled at him as though he were an amusing child. “Honey, you have no idea.”

  He headed back to his car, musing over the exchange. For some reason he felt confident that Gertrude wouldn’t tell Darren about his visit. She seemed to have a kind of maternal affection for him. It was good that he had people in his life to care for him and look after him.

  Mark was a little surprised that Darren hadn’t been told he was adopted. One thing was for sure, it would make approaching his parents that much harder since they wouldn’t want to do or say anything around Darren that would let the cat out of the bag.

  He made it back to his car and a couple of minutes later he was on the freeway heading back to Pine Springs. Maybe he was just being paranoid. After all, if whoever had killed Sadie knew about the boy, they wouldn’t know where to find him. It had taken several pieces of the puzzle plus his inside source at child services to figure it out, all of which wouldn’t be available to Sadie’s killer.

  Traffic on the freeway was snarled up even more than it usually was and he found himself in stop and go traffic heading out of the city. He briefly considered turning on his police light even though it wasn’t an emergency. Even if he did, though, it wouldn’t help much since the cars were literally packed onto the road like sardines. There was nowhere for anyone to go to get out of his way.

  It was well past dinnertime when he made it to Pine Springs. He decided he’d better swing by the station first to drop off the papers so that whoever was going to be working on weeding through them all would have everything they needed. By the time he made it to the police station it was none too soon. His hands were aching from how tightly he’d been clenching the wheel. He always hated driving in Los Angeles.

  He took a moment to stretch arms and back as he got out of the car. Then he opened the back door and reached in for the envelope containing the member roster. He froze.

  The envelope was gone.

  11

  Mark searched frantically under the seats in case the envelope had fallen onto the floor. It wasn’t there. He stood there for a moment, stunned. Someone had to have broken into his car and stolen it while he was at the nursing home. If it had been just a random crime there would have been signs of the break-in and they would have rifled through the glove compartment and stolen everything they could.

  No, someone had deliberately taken the envelope. Either someone, possibly the arsonist, had followed him from the synagogue or it had been someone at the nursing home. He tried to calm his racing thoughts and force himself to think it through.

  The synagogue had been the first one the arsonist burned down. It was possible that he, for some reason, was keeping tabs on the place and had seen Mark there and followed him. Of course, if it was true that there was a purpose behind which synagogues he was burning, it was equally possible he hadn’t been there just hanging around but instead had been casing the place getting ready to burn down the new building. Either way he needed to send some officers back to the synagogue to investigate.

  If no one had followed Mark from the synagogue then someone at the nursing home had seen the envelope in his car and decided to take it. Who would do that? Was it possible he wasn’t the only person who was watching Darren? Did the thief want to know what documents Mark might have and grab the envelope hoping it related to Darren or his real parents?

  He had been there almost a dozen times over the last several months. He couldn’t remember seeing a similar car near his on multiple occasions that would indicate someone else was scoping the place out. Still it was possible that he had drawn someone’s attention.

  For the life of him he couldn’t think of any other reason why someone would want to grab the envelope from his car. He wasn’t working on any other active cases and all his cold cases were so ice cold as to practically make them ancient history.

  He carefully closed the door and headed inside. He grabbed the first officer he saw and handed him his car keys. “Get forensics right now and have them check my car for prints, particularly the rear door on the driver’s side,” he said.

  The officer nodded and scurried off. It was a longshot, but in case the thief had left behind some evidence he wanted to find it. At this point they needed all the help they could get, longshots or no.

  He walked over to his desk and threw himself down into his chair in disgust. Liam looked up from his desk and raised an eyebrow.

  “Problems?”

  “Too many to count,” Mark said. “Someone broke into my car and stole the membership roster from the synagogue.”

  “What?” Liam asked, startled.

  “Yeah, can you believe it?”

  “No, that’s… I don’t know what that is. Why?”

  “I wish I knew. I’ve got a couple of theories. I think we need to send a patrol car to the synagogue just to make sure that our arsonist isn’t thinking of burning down the new building they have.”

  “Give me a minute. You want some coffee?” Liam asked, standing up.

  “Yeah.”

  Mark pulled out his phone and called Traci.

  “How late are you going to be?” she asked without bothering to greet him first.

  “I’m not sure. Hopefully not very.”

  “Should I wait dinner?”

  “No… Yes! Yes, dang it. I’m going to be there soon,” he said forcefully.

  “Okay. Be safe.”

  “Thanks. Love you, Hon,” he said.

  “Love you, too,” she said before hanging up.

  “I don’t deserve her,” Mark said to himself with a sigh.

  “No, you don’t,” Liam said, handing him a cup of coffee. “Uniforms are on their way to the synagogue now.”

  “Thanks,” Mark said. “How are things going here?”

  “Slow. We just got the last two files emailed to us about half an hour ago. I sent them to the computer guy.”

  “Which computer guy?”

  “The good one,” Liam said.

  “Oh, him. Good.”

  “Meanwhile I’ve been looking at past cases involving fires. I’ve also reached out to LAPD to take a look at some of their cases. I’m just trying to make sure we’re not missing anything. After all, most firebugs don’t start with something so grand as an entire synagogue.”

  “Good thinking. Find anything?”

  “The only thing I haven’t been able to rule out is a cold case from almost three years ago. A man burned to death in a building.”

  “Right. That was one of mine. Fire investigation could never prove whether or not the fire was deliberately set,” Mark said. “The guy, what’s his name?”

&nb
sp; “Hyram. Hyram Schmidt.”

  “Hyram. That’s right. You don’t hear that name every day. It was his building, a warehouse. At first we thought maybe insurance fraud gone wrong, but it turned out he didn’t need the money.”

  “We?”

  “Yeah, it was one of the last cases Paul and I were on before… well, before.”

  “Understood. So, regarding Hyram and his burned warehouse, there are three possibilities. It burned down by accident, killing him. He burned it down and either got caught in the fire or was trying to commit suicide. Someone else burned it, perhaps intentionally killing him as well.”

  “Our arsonist hasn’t killed anyone in the synagogue fires.”

  “Not yet. Killing Hyram could have been an accident.”

  “Yeah, but what does Hyram’s warehouse have to do with synagogues?” Mark asked, rubbing his forehead.

  “What did he use the warehouse for?”

  “Textiles.”

  “Okay,” Liam said with a frown. “No obvious connection there. Of course, the warehouse could have just been practice, the arsonist taking his first shot at burning down a whole building.”

  “Maybe, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right,” Mark said.

  “Okay, so I might be reaching and it’s entirely unrelated.”

  “Probably.”

  Suddenly Liam jerked as though something had stung him.

  “What?” Mark asked.

  “Hyram is a Jewish name,” Liam said.

  Mark blinked at him for a moment. “Yes, I believe it is. And the family was Jewish.”

  “Maybe Cindy’s right and this is more about a particular person,” Liam said.

  “But Hyram was dead before the first synagogue was burned.”

  “So, maybe it wasn’t him specifically. Maybe it’s the family.”

  “We need to find out if they worshipped at any of those synagogues,” Mark said.

  “Time we go ask the computer guy,” Liam said.

  A minute later they were hovering over Curtis who was sitting at his desk staring intently at his computer screen. Curtis looked up after nearly a minute, clearly irritated.

  “Don’t you guys ever go home?”

  “Do you?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah, when I’m not doing your guys’ work for you.”

  “Come on, Curtis. You know how dumb Mark is when it comes to computers,” Liam said.

  Mark turned to glare at Liam who just shrugged.

  “That’s true,” Curtis said.

  Mark bit back a retort. He needed answers and if he didn’t play nice he’d be the one stuck going through all the files.

  “I heard you lost the membership records you were supposed to be bringing me,” Curtis said.

  “How did you hear that?” Mark asked.

  Curtis glanced up at him and shook his head as though Mark were a complete simpleton. It was irritating, but he held his tongue. He’d liked Curtis more when the man was a forensics tech. Once the department had figured out he could make a computer sit up and bark like a dog, they had transferred him to full time computer forensics and investigations. He’d been insufferable ever since but he was undeniably good at what he did.

  “We need to know if Hyram Schmidt or his family were ever members of the synagogues in question,” Liam quickly said.

  “I’ll know in the morning when I’m done with my analysis,” Curtis said.

  “Isn’t there a way to just check that out now?” Mark asked, trying to get a look at the computer screen to see what he could.

  Curtis glared up at him, then very deliberately reached up and turned off the monitor. “Morning,” Curtis snapped.

  Mark thought about pulling rank on him but knew it wouldn’t do any good. No one in the office had been successfully able to bully, bribe, or prod Curtis into doing something he wasn’t ready to do.

  “Fine. Morning,” Mark grumbled.

  He and Liam returned to their desks.

  “That went well,” Liam said.

  Mark just rolled his eyes. “I’m heading home. Traci’s waiting dinner.”

  “Saint Traci.”

  “Yeah, just you wait until you’re in my shoes.”

  Liam actually flushed which made Mark smirk. “Let’s see how Saint Rebecca handles things.”

  Liam turned even more red. He got that way every time Mark teased him about his girlfriend, Rebecca.

  Forensics was able to quickly tell him that his car door had been wiped down and so had the backseat. There were no fingerprints for them to lift. While it was disappointing, it was not surprising. At least he could drive home.

  Mark gave Liam a final wave and headed out the door. He was almost halfway home when his phone rang. He was surprised to discover that it was Geanie calling.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “No more menacing letters if that’s what you’re asking,” she said.

  “Glad to hear it. What’s up?”

  “I need you to talk sense into Cindy. I’m really worried about her.”

  “Usually Cindy has more sense than the rest of us. What’s wrong?”

  “She’s insisting on staying in her house despite what happened last night. Joseph and I think it’s dangerous and she should come stay with us.”

  “That kind of is the pattern,” Mark said.

  “Right? I mean, this psycho knows where she lives and next time he drops by for a visit he might not be content to just bloody her house.”

  “Very descriptively put.”

  “Will you please call her and convince her that it’s not safe for her to be there?”

  “She’s not planning on staying there tonight alone, is she?” Mark asked.

  “Apparently Jeremiah’s going to sleep on the couch again.”

  Mark bit back a snarky comment. “Well, if he’s there then there’s not much we really have to worry about. He can take care of the graffiti artist if he dares to show up again.”

  There was a long pause and for a moment Mark thought the call had dropped. “Hello, Geanie?”

  “I’m afraid of that, too,” she said softly.

  “Of what?”

  “Of Jeremiah taking care of the guy. I mean, it’s not like he needs any more trouble after what happened in May.”

  Mark took a deep breath, understanding what she was getting at. “Fortunately, defense of self and others is a valid defense for killing someone.”

  “I’d prefer it not have to come to that,” Geanie said tersely. “And so should you.”

  “Point taken. I really think there’s nothing to worry about, though.”

  “Have you figured out whose blood that was all over the house?”

  “No, forensics is still working on that,” Mark said.

  “So, how can you tell me then that the guy is no threat?”

  Mark could feel a headache coming on. “Look, I’ll make sure we have patrolmen over there. If the guy shows up he’ll run into them long before he runs into Jeremiah.”

  “I hope so,” Geanie said.

  “Alright, I have to go. Have a good night.”

  He hung up hastily. He didn’t enjoy having Geanie mad at him, but if Cindy was determined to stay he didn’t see a pressing reason just yet to make her leave her house. After all, the arsonist didn’t burn down buildings with people in them.

  Unless he killed Hyram, the words popped into his head.

  Maybe he should call Cindy and Jeremiah and have a discussion with them. At that moment, though, all he wanted was to get home to a hot dinner and a warm wife.

  ~

  “Am I being an idiot?” Cindy asked as she suddenly walked into the family room.

  Jeremiah had been half asleep on the couch and woke with a start. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Should we have gone over to Geanie and Joseph’s?”

  He was about to say “yes” but he paused and looked at her inten
tly. “Why didn’t you want to?”

  “I know it’s going to seem stupid, but I’m tired of being chased out of my house, of feeling like I’m running away from every little thing.”

  “Well, I can understand the sentiment. I mean, why do you think we stay in Israel despite getting constantly bombed and attacked? There is a strong desire to stay in your home and not let fear of what others might do drive you out. On the other hand, the things that have sent us over to Joseph and Geanie’s before aren’t ‘little’ things. There’s a time to stand your ground and there’s a time to take cover.”

  “Which one is this?” she asked.

  “You tell me.”

  “Which would you do?”

  “If it was just me, I’d stay. Given that it’s no longer just me, I think we should go. No need to take unnecessary risks. Particularly before we’ve had a chance to go on our honeymoon,” he said, ending with a smirk.

  She picked a pillow up off a chair and threw it at him.

  He made a tsking sound at her as he batted away the pillow. “See, that’s unsafe, too.”

  He saw the corners of her mouth twitch up slightly like she was trying to hold back a smile. He was glad as it had been his intent to put her at ease.

  “Are you suggesting that we shouldn’t do anything even remotely dangerous until after we’ve…” she trailed off suggestively.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. No head injuries caused by flying pillows.”

  “No missing body parts,” she said pointedly looking at his hand.

  “No trips into the wilderness with your brother.”

  “No playdates with the C.I.A.”

  “No hunting serial killers,” he countered.

  “No rendezvous with the Mossad.”

  She was edging steadily closer to him as she spoke and he eyed her like a predator watching his prey.

  “No dart games,” he said.

  “No terrorists.”

  “No poker games.”

  “No international art thieves,” she said.

  “No stolen diamonds.”