Monster's Dream

by P. K. Abbot

  “But tell me, detective, how did you know it was me?”

  “You outsmarted yourself, Marcus. When you sent the necklace to Pepp’s daughter, you gave the package to Mrs. Wren to mail. She decorated it with an origami butterfly.”

  “That meddlesome cow couldn’t help herself. But no harm was done since Angela has corrected that oversight.”

  Angela motioned for Riley to sit in a chair on the side of the room.

  “But you never suspected that Angela was involved, did you, Detective Riley?”

  “No. When I felt the knife against my throat, I thought it was Wolfson.”

  “Detective Wolfson was never involved – at least not willingly. He is a very volatile yet predictable sort, isn’t he, Riley? I couldn’t believe my good fortune when he gutted the shark on the fishing trip. I had intended to kill your friend Yuliya to send you a message, but it was Wolfson who inspired me to do it in just the way that I did.”

  “You bastard.”

  “Sending you that message was quite an accomplishment, detective. It took three hours to travel by my little boat along the inland waterway from my home to your beach. I used Versed to sedate Yuliya for the trip.

  “When we arrived just offshore from your beach, we needed to replicate Wolfson’s behavior if we were going to muddy the waters around your investigation. That was unfortunate for your friend Yuliya. It was also unfortunate for her that Versed is only a sedative and hypnotic. It is not a general anesthetic.

  “When Angela drove the knife into her gut, Yuliya thrashed about in our little boat and nearly capsized us. It took both of us to lift her over the gunwale and drop her into the ocean.”

  Marcus turned toward Angela and smiled. They both laughed.

  “I should have killed you the moment I walked through that door,” Riley said, “I should have sent you both straight to hell.”

  Marcus smiled at Riley and said, “Ah, death… What’s the quotation, detective? The one from Shakespeare in Hamlet?... ‘To die, to sleep – to sleep – perchance to dream...’ That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Riley did not answer. He simply stared at Marcus with hatred and disgust.

  “And what do you suppose monsters dream of, detective?” Marcus asked.

  Again Riley did not answer.

  Marcus closed his eyes, as if summoning the memory from the darkest depths of his mind. A smile crept across his lips as the dream came to the surface and he spoke. “For me, the dream is always primal… sensual even. It starts with the pungent odor of urine – the acrid smell of terror. That happens every time with every boy. It happened when Yuliya’s little boy realized that his mommy couldn’t save him any longer. That she had abandoned him to me.” Marcus laughed and said, “But the dream only gets better from there.”

  He opened his pale blue eyes and smiled at Riley as he spoke. “Angela, bind Mr. Riley securely to his chair. Make sure that he can see everything clearly. It’s time for me to wake the boy.”

  Chapter 19

  For fifteen minutes Pepp watched Riley through the binoculars. Observing him struggle over the marshy terrain, Pepp decided he needed to scrap Riley’s plan and follow him.

  As he pushed on toward the kill room, Pepp sloshed through the brackish water and drew close enough to Riley to watch him as he entered the crab shack. Pepp wasted no time. He hurried along and waded into the water under the shack. As Riley had done, Pepp ran into the rebar cage and slashed his leg. He pulled himself onto the top of the cage and sidled toward the boat and ladder, crushing crab shells now and then as he shuffled along. When he reached the end of the cage, he heard Marcus’s voice and knew that Riley was in trouble.

  Pepp stretched out to grab the ladder and swung down into the water again. He pulled the little boat over to him and peered inside, searching for anything that he could use as a weapon. All he found were the two oars. He lifted one of them from the boat. This is better than nothing, he thought, but not by much.

  He tucked the oar under his arm and climbed quietly up the ladder. When he reached the top, he crouched in front of the door and peeked into the shack.

  Riley was sitting in a wooden chair, and a slim woman was pointing his Glock at him.

  Seeing that they had disarmed Riley, Pepp realized that he now had only two weapons – the boat’s oar and surprise.

  The woman knelt in front of Riley and laid the pistol on the floor. She stripped off a long piece of duct tape and was about to bind Riley to the chair’s arm rests when Pepp burst through the door.

  The woman grabbed Riley’s gun , trying to stand and shoot Pepp. Before she could raise the gun, he smacked the blade of the oar down on her wrist, cracking it and knocking the gun to the floor. He continued charging at her, drove the flat blade of the oar into her stomach, and pushed her off her feet.

  Riley snatched his Glock from the floor and pointed it at Marcus. “Get away from the boy, Marcus.”

  Marcus moved away from Nathaniel and raised his hands above his head. Riley motioned toward the chair and said, “Over here, Marcus.” As Marcus walked over to the chair, Riley fished his handcuffs from his pocket and tossed them to Pepp. “Cuff Angela to the post, Pepp. Then come over here and tie up Doctor Marcus.”

  “I’m on it,” Pepp said. He pulled Angela up from the floor and cuffed her to the wooden post. Then he picked up her knife and the roll of duct tape from the floor. He handed the knife to Riley and knelt in front of the chair where Marcus was now sitting.

  “You guys feel pretty good about yourselves, don’t you?” Marcus asked.

  “Why shouldn’t we?” Pepp said. He stripped off a length of tape and started to bind Marcus to the chair.

  Marcus turned toward Riley and said, “On the one hand, you two have accomplished something truly remarkable. Angela and I have been taking boys and evading the police for years. They tried their best to capture us, but we thwarted every effort. What we accomplished was pure genius.”

  Riley shook his head and laughed. “And yet a washed-up cop and a struggling academic caught you. How is that genius?”

  Marcus chuckled to himself for long moment. Then he looked up at Riley and smiled. “I wouldn’t expect you to grasp this concept, detective, but I’m surprised that Francis – Doctor Pepperell – hasn’t realized this. There is a problem inherent in genius.”

  Riley clenched his fists and scowled at him. “Tell me, genius. What’s the problem?”

  “Angela and I have accomplished truly great things, but the problem is that, as long as we remained undetected, our genius could not be recognized or appreciated.

  “But you and Francis have solved that problem for us, detective.” Marcus now smiled broadly at Riley. “You have given us the one thing that we could not give to ourselves – notoriety. With notoriety people can finally appreciate our true genius. Detective Riley, you and Francis have brought fulfillment to our life’s work.” Marcus looked over at Angela now. She was smiling at him. Then they both started to laugh.

  Riley was turning red with anger. “You can enjoy your notoriety while you rot in prison for the rest of your lives,” he said.

  “No, detective, you don’t understand. You haven’t put an end to us. In fact, you did the opposite. You have brought Angela and me to the next stage of fulfilling our destiny. Detective, you made us famous.”

  “It doesn’t matter how famous you are,” Riley said. “It’s over for you two.”

  “No, it’s just beginning. This state has not executed anyone since 1960, and it will not execute us. In addition, because of our notoriety, we will live on our own – separated from the violent and coarse population of the prison. And all of this is because of you, Detective Riley. You and Francis have made Angela and me famous.”

  “Go to hell,” Riley said.

  Marcus grinned at Riley and said, “But that isn’t the best part, detective. Are you ready for it?”

  Riley was boiling with anger and wouldn’t answer him. He just turned away as Marcus continued to sp
eak.

  “The best part is this. With fame comes adulation. Many people will want to get close to us. Most will say that they are simply curious, but that will be a lie. The truth is that they all want get close to the monster. Most will want to experience the thrill of evil. Some will even want to serve the monster in some way. But one or two will want to become the monster. Those are the special ones. So, you see, detective, you didn’t end anything.”

  Riley started breathing harder now. Blood pounded through his veins, and his skin flushed. He stared at the Glock he held in his hand, and he watched as his hand started to tremble. But he did not answer Marcus.

  Pepp stood up now. He had finished taping Marcus’s arms and legs to the chair.

  “Are you finished now?” Riley asked Pepp.

  “Almost.” Pepp peeled off another strip of duct tape, walked over to Marcus, and taped it over his mouth. He turned toward Riley, and they grinned at each other.

  “Are you ready to call Mueller?” Pepp asked.

  Riley shook his head. “We have a logistics problem, Pepp. Coming over here, I dunked my phone in the bay. It’s useless. We can’t use it to call Mueller, and we can’t drag them back the way we came.”

  “What about their little boat?”

  “We’ll have to use it, but it’s not big enough for all of us.”

  “No. It isn’t.”

  “What do you think about this, Pepp? I’ll cuff Angela to the bow of the boat, and then take her and Nathaniel over the bay to the state police marine station in Atlantic City. I’ll stay with Nathaniel until Céline can get there, but I’ll have them send a police boat for you and Marcus. It should take about an hour.” Riley pressed his Glock into Pepp’s hands. “You can keep this while I’m gone, and guard Marcus until the police show up. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine with that.”

  Riley walked over to Nathaniel and loosened his restraints. He gathered the small boy into his arms and hugged him.

  In a moment Nathaniel woke and started crying. “Riley,” he wimpered.

  “Shhh…Don’t fret, Nathaniel. You’re safe now.”

  The boy hugged Riley as if he would never let him go.

  “Let’s get you dressed,” Riley said. “Let’s go see Mama.”

  Chapter 20

  Early the next morning Wolfson phoned Riley, rousing him from a dead sleep.

  “What?” Riley grunted into the phone.

  “You have a problem, tinman.”

  “What are you talking about, Wolfson?”

  “We found Lenny Myers.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s dead. We found him yesterday. The city decided to turn the parking lot next to the courthouse into a garage. When they started digging the foundation, they found his body – in a metal drum under the asphalt.”

  “Are you starting a murder investigation?”

  “Myers had a single GSW to the head. His prints are on the gun, and the gun was in the drum with him. We want to classify it as a suicide.”

  “How can you call it a suicide, Wolfson? Somebody stuffed him into a steel barrel and buried him under six inches of asphalt. It’s murder.”

  “Look, we don’t have manpower to waste on garbage like Myers. The captain wants to get it off the books, but he’s worried about blowback from the widow. He wants you to talk with Rosalee Myers for us.”

  “Why me?” Riley asked. “I’ve been off the force for weeks now.” Riley always liked the captain, but this seemed too much to ask.

  “Why you, tinman? You’re the one who arrested Lenny before he disappeared. And the captain says you have a special talent for getting widows to do what you want.” Wolfson now laughed at Riley with a lewd, mocking snigger.

  “Screw you, Wolfson. I’ll talk to her for the captain’s sake, but don’t expect anything good to come from the meeting.”

  *****

  Riley drove to the Atlantic City address that Wolfson had given him for Rosalee Myers. It was the same sleazy motel where Séamus had lived. When he asked for Rosalee at the motel’s office, the manager told him that she had moved about a year ago but left a forwarding address.

  Riley was surprised when he looked at the address the manager handed him – West Drive in Margate. Riley knew the neighborhood. It was less than two miles from the motel, but it was in a different world. It was an older neighborhood of small lots and modest homes, but the homeowners there took pride in their neighborhood and kept their properties in pristine condition. Rosalee Myers had done very well for herself.

  Riley parked on the street in front of Rosalee’s home. When he got out of his car, the sky was a brilliant blue, filled with bright sunshine and white wispy clouds. Riley was struck by the contrast of this idyllic setting to the depressing motel where Rosalee had come from. In the sun Rosalee’s new house glistened like a pearl with its bright white stucco walls and terra-cotta tiled roof. The painted shutters and brickwork matched the color of the terra-cotta tiles exactly. It was a narrow two-storied house. The front door was on the far left of the house. The house seemed just wide enough to accommodate a single room alongside a hallway. Riley imagined that the hallway must have run from the front door through the length of the house – a living room in the front, followed by a bath, and then a kitchen and dining area.

  The front lawn was as tiny as the house – only six paces from the curb to the front door. But it too was impeccably maintained – lush green grass, trimmed shrubbery, and beds of cheerful flowers.

  As Riley walked across the street to the house, he saw a woman on her hands and knees, planting bright pink impatiens in front of the shrubbery.

  “Mrs. Myers?” Riley asked.

  She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. He recognized the petite brunette with dark, doe eyes whom he had seen in the courthouse more than a year ago. “I’m Rosalee,” she said. There was a cheerfulness in her voice and a smile he had never seen before.

  “I’d like to speak to you about a personal matter,” Riley said.

  She stood up and faced him. He was shocked at how beautiful she now looked. The knife scar that had disfigured her face a year ago was gone. Her face and skin seemed flawless.

  “What is it?” she asked with a little more concern in her voice now.

  “Rosalee, I’m Detective Riley. I represent the Atlantic City Police Department, and I need to speak to you about your husband, Lenny Myers.”

  The fear that he had seen in her a year ago returned to her eyes. She stared at him and said, “You were at Lenny’s arraignment a year ago, weren’t you, detective?”

  “We should really discuss this inside the house,” he said to her.

  “Yes. Okay,” she said. She dropped her gardening gloves on the lawn and led him into the house. They walked silently down the hall to the back of the house. There she asked him to sit at the kitchen table in front of a broad window that looked out onto the backyard. The backyard was as narrow as the house, but it was twice its depth. There were shade trees, lush green grass, and a new swing set. Two little kids – a boy of about eight and a girl two years younger – were laughing and chasing each other about the yard in a game of tag.

  “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Iced tea?” she asked.

  “A glass of water would be nice,” he replied.

  She poured him a glass of iced water and set it in front of him at the table.

  “You have a beautiful home, Rosalee.”

  “I guess you’re wondering how I went from Atlantic City to this.”

  Riley nodded.

  She took a deep breath and began her story. “After Lenny’s hearing, a lawyer approached me. He told me he represented a wealthy client who had taken an interest in my welfare and in the welfare of my children.”

  “Who was he?”

  “He wouldn’t say.”

  “Didn’t you find that strange, Rosalee?”

  “I had to hear him out because of my kids. I couldn’t affo
rd to walk away from him.”

  “So, what did he say?”

  “He showed me this place and said that he could arrange for the kids and me to live here, if I wanted.”

  “So, you agreed?”

  “Of course. I had to do it for the kids. Once I agreed, he had the house furnished and moved us from the motel. Then he gave me the deed and an envelope filled with cash – ten grand for monthly expenses. Every month he gives me another envelope with the same amount.”

  “What did he want you to do for this, Rosalee?”

  “That’s just it. He didn’t want anything. He said his client just wanted to help me.”

  Riley touched his face in the place where Rosalee’s scar had been. “And what about your scar?” he asked.

  “The same thing,” she said. “A surgeon came to the house one day and offered to remove the scar from my face. My benefactor had already arranged it and paid for it.” Then Rosalee brought her hands up to her mouth and spoke softly to him in a trembling voice. “But this isn’t why you’re here, is it, detective?”

  Her words hung in the air for a tense minute. Riley said nothing at first. He didn’t know how to tell her that her husband was dead.

  “Just tell me,” she pleaded.

  “Yesterday we found Lenny’s body,” Riley said. “It appears that he died right after his arraignment.”

  Tears came to her eyes, and she started gasping for air as she spoke. “From the moment he disappeared, I felt he was dead.”

  Riley pushed his glass of iced water across the table to her. She picked it up in her trembling hands and drank from it. When she had composed herself again, she asked Riley, “How did Lenny die?”

  “Lenny died instantly from a single gunshot wound to his head. The wound may have been self-inflicted, or your husband may have been murdered. It’s not really clear.”

  Rosalee’s hands covered her eyes, and her shoulders heaved as she started crying.

  Riley continued speaking. “The police department has no leads, Rosalee. And, after one year, there is no evidence that they can use to prosecute a murder case. The department feels that it may be easier on you and the children if they simply classify Lenny’s death as a suicide.”