Beneath the Bleak New Moon

by Debra Purdy Kong

  After Casey highlighted events at Mainland, Danielle said, “No wonder this sounds like a setup. I can’t wait to see the police take the bastard down.”

  “You aren’t still going there, are you?”

  “Already on my way.”

  “Danielle, do you have any idea how stupid that is?”

  “I’ve already phoned the cops and told them what’s happening. Now that Dom’s wanted for murder, they’ll show up pretty damn quick. I won’t even have to get out of the Jeep.”

  Casey sighed. “I’m calling Denver.”

  “Can you meet me at Clint’s? You live close by, right? You could take the back while I watch the front until help arrives. I’m almost at the body shop now.”

  “Damn it, Danielle. Are you alone? Where’s Virginia?”

  “At work. See you soon.”

  Casey prayed the police showed up before Danielle because the odds of that girl staying in her vehicle were slim to none.

  “Lou, don’t take your coat off,” she said, rushing through an explanation while ushering him out the door. “We’re going to get Danielle away from that place if we have to kidnap her ourselves.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  CASEY AND LOU SPED NORTH, zipping past familiar cafés, markets, and shops. Speed and apprehension blurred the shapes of Commercial Drive, making the world feel risky and beyond her grasp. She looked at the side mirror for signs of flashing police lights and tried to slow her breathing, but the worry was too big.

  Lou braked for the red light at Hastings, while Casey called Danielle. After four rings she started to panic. Why wasn’t Danielle answering? Had Mancuso spotted her? Maybe the police had arrived and Danielle was talking to them. Casey listened to the continuous rings. Her call to Denver had prompted a string of curses and rude remarks about Danielle’s sanity, but he’d promised to get there as soon as he could and assured her that other officers were on their way. Danielle finally answered.

  “Where the hell are you?” Casey asked. “And why didn’t you answer the phone?”

  “It fell on the floor. I’ve just parked across the street from Clint’s. All’s quiet. There’s no sign of anyone.”

  Casey’s shoulders sagged with relief. The light changed and Lou turned left onto Hastings. “Is Mancuso’s car there?”

  “No. I was going to take a look at the back of the building, but it looks pretty dark. Wait a sec. A Smart car’s pulling up in front of the shop. A chick’s behind the wheel and there’s a passenger. Oh. Now they’re driving around back.”

  “Do not follow them, understand?” She thought she heard a door close. “Danielle?”

  “Wait,” Danielle replied.

  Casey strained against her seatbelt. Clint’s Collision was on a side street three blocks ahead. Traffic forced Lou to slow down. “Danielle, talk to me!”

  “I’m on foot,” she murmured, “behind some bins next to the building.”

  “Get out of there!”

  “Dom’s car is behind the body shop. Shit, he’s getting out of the Smart car!”

  Two patrol cars sped in opposite directions on Hastings. One turned onto the street in front of Clint’s. The other turned into the lane running behind the shop.

  “Danielle, the police are pulling up. Let them take over.”

  “Dom’s in his car and heading north down the lane.” She sounded breathless. “The Smart car’s heading south. One cop car’s after her and the other’s going after Dom. I want to see them bust the jerk. I’ll call you back.”

  “Danielle!” It was too late. She’d hung up.

  By the time Lou turned off Hastings, Virginia’s Jeep was disappearing behind the garage. Lou sped up to follow her. They reached the back of the building in time to see Danielle’s tail lights.

  “Should we follow her?” he asked.

  “With the cops there, all she can do is watch from a distance.”

  Lou pulled up to the body shop and parked in front of the door. Everything looked shut tight.

  “What now?” he asked.

  “Don’t know. I’m not sure if we should wait and update Denver or just leave.”

  “You could do it from home. He’s probably listening to all the cop talk, anyway.”

  “What about the person who made the call for Mancuso?” She gazed at the building. “Do you think he’s still inside?”

  “I don’t think we should be the ones to find out.”

  “You’re probably right. Let’s go.”

  As Lou shifted into reverse, a crash inside the building made Casey jump.

  “Help!” a man shouted from inside. “Somebody help!”

  It sounded like he was just behind the door. Was he an employee, the owner, or an intruder? To their right, a dim light shone through narrow windows set higher than the doorframe.

  “Think we should go in?” she asked.

  “Let’s wait for Denver.”

  Casey couldn’t see any parked vehicles near the building. “What if someone’s badly hurt?”

  “What if he’s not alone?” Lou replied. “What if there’s a fight? They could have weapons.”

  Casey dialed 911, described the situation, and was told to stay on the line.

  “I can’t move!” the man yelled. “Is someone out there? Help!”

  “He just called for help again,” she said to the dispatcher. “The guy could be crushed under something, and I know first aid.”

  “I understand, ma’am, but you need to think of your safety first.”

  “I’m aware of that, but if this is real and the guy’s bleeding badly or having breathing problems, the ambulance could be too late. The window’s fairly high. If I stand on the hood, I might be able to see.”

  “I’ll do it,” Lou said.

  “Help! Please!” the man called out. “Oh god, it hurts!”

  Casey cringed. It sounded bad, or did someone just want her to think so? Someone who’d been expecting Danielle. “He just cried out again,” she said to the dispatcher. “Listen, I’m here with my boyfriend, who also has first aid. He’ll look through the window, and I’ll check out the door. If it’s unlocked, I’ll stay on the threshold and see what’s up.” She fetched the flashlight Lou kept under the passenger seat.

  “Help!”

  “He just called out again.” Casey gripped the phone. “I’ll stay on the line, and if I sense a trap I’m out of there.”

  Lou eased the truck close to the wall, directly beneath a window. “Don’t go in till I get a look. I’ll need that flashlight.”

  Casey handed it to him, then got out of the truck.

  “Take the crowbar I keep in back,” he added, climbing onto the hood. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Help!” the man shouted. “Don’t leave! I can’t move!”

  Casey put her phone in her pocket, then picked up the crowbar, while Lou shone the light through the window. “I can’t see anything.”

  “Give me the light,” she said.

  Lou hesitated before handing it to her.

  “Help me! Please! ” the voice screamed.

  As Lou got down from the hood, Casey walked up to the door and slowly turned the handle, afraid to make any noise. The door was unlocked, which was no surprise since someone had been expecting Danielle. Her heart bounced against her chest. Sirens approached. Bolstered by the arrival of help, she opened the heavy metal door and poked her head inside. The smell of oil and gasoline was strong. Casey saw a light switch on her right. As she reached for it, a hand clamped around her wrist and yanked her inside so fast her shoulder hit the door and she lost her balance. The door slammed shut. A bolt turned.

  “Hey!” Lou shouted, banging on the door.

  Casey dropped to her right knee, losing the flashlight. As she started to stand, a sharp kick to her lower back made her double over and drop the crowbar. It clanged on the cement floor and started to roll away. Casey grabbed it. Desperate to get away, she stumbled forward into the garage.

  “Casey!” Lou yell
ed and banged on the door. “Casey!” It sounded like he was jiggling the handle, then there was a thud—he must have kicked the door.

  Aware of someone close behind her, Casey turned and swung the crowbar as hard as she could. A voice cried out in pain and her assailant fell. The only light, coming from another room, was too dim for her to be able to identify her attacker.

  In the shadows, she thought she saw the door between the bay entrances that she’d noticed the other day. Two cars were on her right. A toppled cart was in front of her, tools scattered everywhere.

  “Casey! ” Lou again banged on the door.

  If she responded, the nut would find her. Sweat trickled down Casey’s sides and coated her back. She had to get out of there.

  The sirens stopped. A strong beam of light blinded her, and a kick to her right hip sent her reeling against a car. The glaring light lowered. She saw eyeglasses on a familiar face and a long, shiny blade in Morris Mueller’s hand. Casey’s legs shook so hard she worried they’d give out.

  “Police!” a man yelled. “Open the door or we’ll break it down!”

  “He has a knife!” Casey yelled. “Help!” Mueller stared at her as if oblivious to the commotion outside. “You’ve got one chance to get away, Morris. Just open a door and take off. I won’t stop you.”

  “Why not?” For someone about to be arrested, his voice was unnervingly calm. “That’s what you’ve been trying to do all along.”

  She needed to keep him talking. “You’re the one who ran down Beatrice Dunning and all the others, aren’t you? Harvey and Eagle were with you that night. They died because you thought they’d eventually tell the police.”

  Another bang on the door made her flinch. Morris still seemed unconcerned.

  “The driver was a friend of Eagle’s from high school,” he said. “It had nothing to do with me.”

  He didn’t even ask how or when Eagle died. Suddenly Casey heard a tinny voice call her name; she had no idea how long the dispatcher had been shouting to her. She’d forgotten she had left the line connected. She pulled the phone from her jacket pocket.

  “I’m here,” Casey said, “with a man named Morris Mueller. He has a knife!”

  “Can you get out of there?” the dispatcher asked.

  “No.”

  “Can you hide somewhere?”

  “Too late. He’s right in front of me.” Why wasn’t Mueller leaving? Didn’t he realize it was over, or didn’t he care? Nausea swirled faster. A huge crash against the door sent her jumping backward. “If you didn’t kill anyone, then put the knife down and open the door.”

  Mueller didn’t move. “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on. Why did you yell for help?”

  “I thought someone else was in here, but then I heard a car pull up.”

  “Why did you kick me?” Casey asked.

  Another attempt to bash down the door made her flinch. It wouldn’t be long before they were in. Mueller was eerily still.

  “I couldn’t see clearly and was a bit freaked out,” he replied. “For all I knew, you were the killer.”

  “Why did you come here in the first place?”

  “Dominic Mancuso called and said he was in trouble. He begged me to meet him here.”

  “Where did you get the knife, Morris?”

  He looked down and appeared to study the thing. “I found it on the floor when I got here.”

  This was his plan? To make things up as he went? Fine, she’d play along. “Is Dom the one who’s been killing people?”

  The door started to give way.

  “All I know is that I’m not the one running people down, and if I wanted to kill you, wouldn’t I have done it by now?”

  He still might try. His hand had begun to shake. “Why don’t you drop the knife?”

  Another bang. Help would be through any second.

  “Can’t. I don’t know where Dom is,” Morris replied. “But I think he brought me here to kill me.”

  The door came crashing down.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “SEE YA, CASEY,” PAIGE SAID, following her sister toward the bus exit.

  Casey looked up from the Contrarian. “Actually, you won’t. I’ll be on a new assignment.”

  Since the twins had obeyed the rules for a couple of weeks, and Stan needed her elsewhere, this was her last run on the M7 for now.

  “Try not to piss people off,” Lara said, sweeping her pink bangs to the side.

  “Back at ya.”

  Casey returned to Danielle’s piece about the demise of Roadkill. She’d written about the gamblers who had waved big bucks in front of these guys, enticing racers to push harder and risk their lives. The gamblers weren’t just thugs and criminals, but also doctors, lawyers, dentists, and stockbrokers. People who depend on the recklessness of others for thrills. People who are born cowards and will be until the day they die. Richie must have told her about the gamblers.

  Danielle had gone on to write that money hadn’t been the sole reason for Roadkill’s recklessness; there was also the competition, thrill-seeking, and bragging rights. Among them was a sociopath who’d discovered a new thrill: deciding who would live and who would die. She mentioned Morris Mueller’s arrest for the murders of Eagle and Harvey and for the hit-and-run deaths of Beatrice Dunning and Anna-lee Fujioko. Charges were still pending over the deaths of the last two victims, Jason Charlie and Chantel Green.

  Casey looked up at the clear night sky. She was grateful to Denver for sharing information, for telling her how Morris had phoned his uncle the night Beatrice died and begged him to fix the black Miata he’d claimed to have hit a tree with. He’d taken his father’s car for a joy ride, just as Harvey had taken his dad’s Lexus. Casey had no idea if the uncle had mentioned anything about seeing blood on the vehicle, but if Morris was smart he would have washed it off before taking it to the body shop.

  Casey had distanced herself from Ellen Mueller, who was vehemently denying her son’s involvement in any hit and run, according to last night’s news clip. Casey had phoned Ellen’s office to say she’d decided to take her house off the market. She hoped she’d never hear from that woman again, although she had a feeling they’d meet in court.

  Taking a deep breath, Casey inhaled the slight odor of mothballs coming from the passenger beside her. She scanned the passengers, many of whom were absorbed with paperbacks or electronic gadgets, then returned to Danielle’s article.

  While gamblers profited, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends mourned for those killed by a motor vehicle. I’m one of them. Three years ago, my brother, Benjamin Carpenter, was killed while racing on Georgia Street. He made a huge mistake and it cost him his life. I remember the funny, athletic guy who brought home stray cats and tons of friends. I remember how proud he was when he passed his driver’s test and how he took my parents and me to the Dairy Queen to celebrate. They often told Ben to be careful, and he always promised them that he would. He was twenty years old when he died. I still miss him. I’m still furious with him for breaking his promise.

  Casey looked up and wondered if the Carpenters could finally begin to heal. By the time she’d finished reading the rest of the paper, the bus was only ten minutes from the depot. Greg pulled up to the next stop, watched the last passenger disembark, then strolled toward her. Terrific. Just what she needed.

  “Casey?”

  “Shouldn’t we be heading back?”

  “I’m five minutes ahead of schedule. Traffic’s light for a change.”

  Based on the way Greg shifted his feet and blew out little puffs of air, something was on his mind. “What is it, Greg?”

  “I’m quitting Mainland. Handing in my notice as soon as we get back.”

  This was a surprise, but a welcome one. “Did you find another job?”

  “Yep. Coast Mountain hired me.”

  A union job. The jump in Greg’s salary would annoy the hell out of Lou. “Congratu
lations.”

  “I noticed that the real estate sign was taken down,” he said. “Now that I’ll be able to afford the rent, I’d like to stay.”

  No way in hell. Time to sever this tie once and for all. “I’m still selling, just changing agents.”

  When her phone rang, Greg trudged back to his seat. Casey smiled at the sound of Danielle’s cheerful voice.

  “Good news, my series is being picked up by other papers. My byline’s going to be everywhere. I’m so stoked.”

  “I’m not surprised. I just read your latest column and it’s wonderful.”

  “Thanks. Listen, I wanted you to know that Richie’s story about Kumar running him and Ben off the road held up. Another witness came forward. One of Kumar’s roommates ratted him out.”

  “How did you learn this?”

  “A source. New ones do pop up now and then.”

  “Speaking of sources, how’s Richie doing?”

  “Miserable. If he isn’t sent to jail, his parents are shipping him to Ottawa to live with his grandparents. Richie says they’re even more strict than his folks, but they also know nothing about computers, so he figures he can stay in touch.”

  “Do you want that?”

  Danielle didn’t answer right away. “I’m not sure. Anyhow, I got hold of Mancuso and he said the blonde in the Smart car came on to him at the River’s End Pub, promising all sorts of goodies.”

  “And since Dom is so predictable . . .”

  Danielle laughed. “His lawyer found out that Mueller paid the girl to keep him busy.”

  “How did Dom wind up at the shop?”

  “An anonymous caller said his car had been stolen and taken to Clint’s Collision.”

  “Morris made the call, right? He arranged the whole thing.”

  “Looks that way. I think his plan was to kill me for getting too close to the truth about him and frame Dom for it.”

  “Did Dom know that Morris’s uncle owns the place?” Casey asked.

  “He claims he didn’t, but who knows? Yesterday, on Facebook, Morris’s sister said her brother had been afraid for his life and thought Dom was going to kill him. I’m guessing Morris gave his family quite a sob story, so they’re doing damage control. Can’t wait to see it fall apart on the witness stand.”