She hoped so, because when she reached up to her own face, Janey could feel tears there, too. But she was pretty sure she was happy.
In fact, she was more than pretty sure. She was almost positive.
*
Dental records had confirmed that their victim was, indeed, the missing socialite that had been reported missing. Porsche Diamante, only daughter of Italian fashion designer Alessandro Diamante, who had immigrated to the U.S. in the late 70s. Darc had made no immediate connection to this information, but his partner had.
“Dude, he’s the guy that was almost single-handedly responsible for the geometric shapes on shirts during the 80s.”
“That means nothing to me,” Darc informed his overactive partner, who even now was dancing from one foot to the other, as if he could not contain the amount of energy he had contained within his body.
“Well, it should. The guy’s mega-rich. And his daughter’s his only heir. The girl buys cars like you buy socks.” Trey paused and glanced down at where Darc’s socks should be, covered up by his slacks. “Okay, like I would buy socks. Are you even wearing them today?”
“Yes.”
“Just checking. You stop wearing socks, and car rides with you start getting really stinky. I’m not going through that again.” Trey paced back and forth, his hands moving as fast as his mouth was. “So anyway, she’s constantly getting into trouble, she posed nude for Playboy a couple of years ago, she’s probably bought half the available cocaine in King County. You know… your typical rich socialite heiress.”
“The pertinent question that you are not asking is what would cause the killer to target her?” The lines of logic were snarled and doubled back on themselves. Nothing was making sense.
“That’s just the thing,” Trey answered. “I wouldn’t have thought that he would. Of course, I also would’ve thought he’d never mutilate a body, but…”
“But clearly he has,” Darc finished for him. “This could indicate a dramatic escalation in his pattern, or we could be looking at another killer.”
“Two killers that remove fingernails? That doesn’t seem right.”
“I calculate the probability at less than six percent,” Darc confirmed. “Statistically possible, but highly unlikely.”
“So at least for now we gotta treat ‘em like they’re all the same guy. Okay. I’m telling you, there’s something about this whole mutilation thing that seems so familiar.” Trey rubbed his temples with the index and middle fingers of both hands. He then shook his head. “Nope. I got nothing. So, where are we on linking them?”
“With the semen found at several of the crime scenes, I pulled up the sex offender registry and correlated it with the geography of the killings. The fingernail pulling seems to be more sexual than violent in nature, and sexual compulsions can exhibit themselves in multiple outlets.”
“Like a Peeping Tom that also likes to expose himself?” Trey asked.
“Exactly. I came up with a list of ten suspects within the boundaries I defined, but cannot easily eliminate any others without additional input.”
“Perhaps I can help,” a new voice chimed in.
It was Mala.
*
The look of pleased surprise on Trey’s face was gratifying to Mala. Darc, on the other hand, instead of his usual blank expression, looked as if he had sucked on a particularly sour lemon.
“Hey, Mala!” Trey gushed. “What’re you doing here?”
“I’m on the case,” Mala replied, grinning at his enthusiasm. “I’m working for the department part-time as a consultant. And since everyone found out that it was Porsche Diamante that had gotten killed, the captain’s phone has been ringing off the hook. He wanted to give you guys all the help you could handle.”
“I’m not sure we could ever ‘handle’ you, but I’m glad you’re working the case with us.” Trey glanced over at his partner. “This is great, don’t you think, Darc?”
“I am not certain how her skill set will improve our chances at apprehending our suspect,” Darc muttered. “However, I am not opposed to her presence on the team.”
“Oh, well that’s good,” Trey muttered, making a face at Mala, as if to say, what’s his deal? “Glad to hear you’re not actively opposed to it. I mean it’s not like she helped us take down the priest or anything, right?”
Darc paused, looking intently at Trey. “That was sarcasm, correct?”
“Ya think?” Trey sniped back, and then added, “That was sarcasm, too, in case you missed it.”
“Okay, guys, okay.” Mala stepped in, trying to alleviate some of the tension in the room. “I just want to help. If I can’t, I promise I won’t get in the way.” She delivered this last sentence to Darc.
He was the last person she would have expected to behave in this fashion, particularly after their successful interaction on the last case. Perhaps he was still upset about how she had kept him from seeing Janey after the slaughterhouse incident. That, in retrospect, had been an error on her part. Something to talk through with him at another time, perhaps.
“Hey, this is really my case,” Trey added, “so if he doesn’t like it, he can go zone out in another room while we’re working on stuff.” He rapped Darc on the arm. “Sorry, dude, but I think we could use anything she’s willing to offer. And stop being so surly.”
“I am not being surly,” Darc responded. “I am simply stating—”
“Yeah, yeah. Insufficient, blah, blah. Unnecessary, yada, yada. You’re like a broken record sometimes, Darc.” Trey pulled up a chair and thumped it, indicating that Mala should take a seat. “Belly up to the bar there, Doc. Take a look.”
Mala perused the materials they had gathered. It was a thorough job, so far. Looking over the list of suspects Darc had assembled, Mala saw something that presented itself almost immediately.
“Here,” Mala said, pointing at one of the suspects on the list. “Jeremy Krauss.”
“What is it about him?” Trey asked.
“Well, first I have to explain a little bit about the whole fingernail thing.”
Trey nodded. “Yeah, that’s a little freaky.”
“It’s actually not all that uncommon. It is a subset of the fetish referred to as partualism, where the subject is aroused by specific body parts. And fetishes usually start in childhood.”
“So the fingernails are taken as a trophy,” Darc interjected, his tone reluctant. At least he was trying to engage. Unfortunately, Mala needed to disabuse him of his current notion of what was probable in this case.
“That’s a possibility, but it’s much more likely that he disposed of the nails somehow. Out of a sense of shame, potentially.”
Darc retreated back into his mute state at that, but Trey seemed even more curious. “So, he’s taking the nails because he feels bad?”
“The coroner’s report shows that the nails were taken post-mortem. There was no desire to hurt the victim by taking them, as far as we can tell, right?”
Trey shook his head. “Sure, but that doesn’t match at all with the last one.”
That brought Mala up short. “No, it doesn’t, does it? To be honest, I don’t get that part at all. Maybe it was an anomaly? Something the victim did made him angry? Not sure. It doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense.”
“You know what? Doesn’t matter. Let’s focus on the guy you picked out. Mr. What’s-His-Bucket.” Trey looked at the list. “Krauss. What’s his deal?”
“He was picked up for voyeurism and had a run-in for trying to pick up a prostitute a few times.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t make him any different from most of these other guys.” Trey’s face was a study in confusion as he scanned down the suspects, picking out their sexual crimes and misdemeanors.
“No, not at first glance, but if you look deeper into his file, you’ll see that he never tried to have sex with any of them. He just wanted them to drink glasses of water while he… you know.”
“Uh… okay.” It was clear that he had no idea where M
ala was going with this. She decided to put him out of his misery.
“Watching them drink gave him the perfect way to see their fingernails without asking them to see their fingernails. Remember the shame part?”
Darc was still not saying anything at this point, but he was obviously listening. And as he listened, he seemed to be agreeing with her assessment. She thought. It was always so tough to tell with the bald detective.
“So,” Trey mused. “The guy’s embarrassed. I guess I would be too if I got off on fingernails.
“No,” Mala corrected. “Not embarrassed. Ashamed. They’re two completely different things.”
“Explain,” Darc spoke, his tone flat. Well, that was about par for course, from what she knew of the tall detective. He wasn’t much for small talk.
“Many times, these fetishes begin with the mother. For Mr. Krauss, my guess would be that he watched his mother having sex with multiple partners. She could have been a prostitute herself, or perhaps had a strong sex addiction. That kind of exposure at a young age could create not only a sexual obsession, but one around which there would be a preponderance of shameful feelings.
“Urg. That’s not creepy at all,” Trey muttered, then shook his head. “Well, all right then.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s go pick the guy up and see what he has to say for himself.”
Mala was not at all positive that this was going to be the guy they were looking for, but she knew he was the most likely on their list. And one way or another, she wanted to help these two track down a killer who was preying on women. That was the only reason, right? There wasn’t any other ulterior motive going on inside of her, was there? Something prompted by the presence—and disapproval of—a certain tall, handsome savant?
No, that couldn’t be it.
But as they all gathered their things to leave, heading for the last known residence of Jeremy Krauss, she found herself really hoping that she was right. Probably not the best way to do detective work.
But then again, she wasn’t really a detective, was she?
CHAPTER 9
Darc was not pleased with the current scenario. There was no logical reason for him to feel this way. In fact, the ribbons of light within him seemed… not pleased, of course. That would not be logical, and seeing as how the bands were made up of pure logic, that kind of emotion would be antithetical to their very existence. They did seem oddly bright and submissive, however.
Mala proved herself valuable, over and over again. His insistence that she was not needed on the case had no basis in any kind of factual framework. It was, in fact, patently false. Darc did not typically utter falsehoods. Therefore, he was acting atypically. It was another uncomfortable syllogism.
She sat in the backseat, having refused to ride in the front passenger seat he had offered to her. Why had he done that? He always took the front passenger seat when Trey was driving, which was so close to always that it made little statistical difference. He had never made accommodation for anyone previously. So what had made him do so now?
And why had she refused?
The tendrils of gray were reaching out for him, doing their best to overwhelm his sense of self. Though, strangely, they did not seem to have any impact whatsoever on the strands of logic laid out like a network in his mind. The information continued to flow into and out of his system in a steady stream of patterns and rhythms. New symbols arose as connections were made and then tossed aside as irrelevant or stored for future use.
Darc tried to catch a glimpse of Mala in the rear view mirror, but the angle was such that he could not see her. Turning around to face her made sense, but for some unknown reason, Darc did not want to let Mala know that he was observing her.
Instead, he pulled up her face in his memory. Eidetic memory was fairly precise, and her features seemed etched with even greater clarity than he normally experienced when remembering individuals.
The features were highly symmetrical, pleasing in their aesthetic. Dusky skin, with an even, smooth tone, slightly darker around the eyes, which lent her eyes a smoky look that, according to makeup commercials, seemed to be in vogue currently.
Her lips were full without looking like she was puckering them up. That was a look that also seemed to be in fashion currently. Trey called them “duck faces.” Darc thought they looked like someone had struck them with a large mallet.
But what was the most troubling of all were the bodily reactions he experienced during his observations. His breathing became more shallow and rapid. His heart rate increased perceptibly. There was even a light sheen of sweat across his forehead.
Unacceptable.
Replacing Mala’s features with the map of logic paths regarding the case, Darc attempted to refocus on what they were doing now. But Mala’s face continued to insert itself into his thoughts, keeping him from weaving the threads into a cohesive pattern.
He sighed, pushing all thought from his head as rain began to splatter against the windscreen in front of his face. Trey must have heard the sound, as he turned his head to look at Darc, one eyebrow raised. He took one look at the look on Darc’s face and chuckled, slapping Darc’s leg.
“Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll figure it out,” Trey whispered to him.
“What was that?” Mala called up from the back seat.
“Um, nothing. Just saying we’ll check it out. You know. The guy. Krauss.”
“Oh. Right.” Mala sat back in her seat.
“C’mon, Darc. Get your head back in the game, man. We need your smarts when we go in there.” Trey kept his tone low enough not to spark Mala’s interest, as she didn’t ask what they were talking about.
Trey was correct in his assessment. Going in intellectually handicapped would hamper their ability to successfully bring in the suspect. He would need to stop thinking about Mala.
The only problem was he had no idea how to do so.
*
Trey checked in with the uniformed cops that had been sent ahead of them to the apartment of Jeremy Krauss. The suspect was not at home, which sucked as far as apprehending the guy went, but at least they’d get a crack at his place. The manager of the apartment complex had been called and was on her way out to meet them as they pulled up into the parking lot.
The complex possessed all of the charm of a structure built in the early 80s. Faux wood siding painted a slightly magenta color that had now faded to almost a dull pink covered the structure, which had a boxy shape that had probably been intended to look ultramodern when it first opened its doors.
As the manager lurched out to meet them, Trey had to wonder if it was an unwritten rule that if you managed apartments, you had to give up on all things relating to personal hygiene. The woman had straggly hair that was somewhere in between blonde and brunette, with the end result being easily described by pointing at the water left over from washing a sink full of dishes. Her clothes were rumpled, like she’d just gotten out of bed, even though it was two o’clock in the afternoon.
Trey thought about it for a second, realizing that if he didn’t have to go in to work, he’d probably never get out of bed, either. He might not brush his teeth, either. Trey decided that it could be prudent to keep out of the woman’s breathing radius. You know, just to be on the safe side.
“So, what did he do?” The manager’s teeth were crooked, and it looked like at least two of them were rotten. Trey mentally patted himself on the back for a good call.
“Possibly nothing, ma’am,” Trey answered. “We’re just checking his apartment as part of an ongoing case. Can’t really talk much about it.” He handed her a copy of the search warrant that she made a pretense of scanning as they entered the stairwell leading up to the second story. “Do you know Mr. Krauss?”
“Well, I don’t know him know him, if you get what I’m saying.” She smiled, playing the coquette, and made an attempt to twirl her hair, but got her finger caught in a snarl. Trey turned his sudden laugh into a cough.
“But it sounds like you
had some interaction with him, at least,” Trey said, once he’d gotten control of himself. “Sorry. Getting over a head cold.”
“Oh, yeah. Stuff’s been going around. I was shitting my guts out day before yesterday.” Trey shifted himself a slight step away as the woman continued. “Jeremy’s a bit of a lone wolf kind of guy, you know? Comes and goes as he pleases. Never stays in one spot too long.” Her look got wistful.
“Did you two date?” Mala interjected, as she moved alongside the woman.
The manager’s face screwed itself into a self-depreciating grimace. “Naw. I thought we might, at first, but… You know. Lone wolf. Can’t get tied down.”
They arrived at the door to Jeremy Krauss’s apartment, and the woman pulled out a wad of keys and started going through them, trying to find the right one for the door. After some fumbling around, she finally managed to get it unlocked and moved to the side as Trey, Darc and Mala entered the space.
The apartment appeared to be a typical bachelor pad. Dark colors, fairly simple layout, nothing fancy. It was messy, but not trashed to the point that the suspect would need to be embarrassed to bring someone home with him. A flat-screen TV was flush with the far wall, the most expensive piece of furniture in an otherwise Ikea wonderland.
“Nothing here that indicates the kind of psychosis that would drive someone to mutilations,” Mala murmured as she scanned the room.
The manager of the complex, who had crept in behind them, gawking around the room with a sense of invading the privacy of a celebrity’s home, gasped at that. “Jeremy’s hurt somebody?”
“No, no,” Trey reassured her, giving Mala a look. “Like I said, we’re just checking on some stuff. We don’t know anything yet. Could you please wait outside while we search? We’ll call for you if we need anything.”
The manager sniffed at that, looking decidedly disappointed. But she turned and left the living room, after one more longing look around the place. Definitely a case of love unrequited with that one. They’d want to keep an eye on her.
They moved from the living room into the kitchen, which showed more use than was typical for a single guy. From the dishes in the sink, Jeremy looked to have made himself a nice white truffle risotto the evening before. Trey found that his level of respect for the suspect was rising, in spite of himself.
7th Sin: The Sequel to the #1 Hard Boiled Mystery, 9th Circle (Book 2 of the Darc Murders Series) Page 9