by Dan Glover
Chapter 26—High Crimes
(And Misdemeanors)
1
That had been enjoyable. Maybe too much so. Had she left behind any incriminating evidence? She decided it didn’t matter. Information mattered, and she had that. Now she had to decide exactly what to do with it. The police wouldn’t believe her. She'd only hang herself going to them, like Danners Forthright had done. They'd know right off how she came by it. Everyone would know. Besides, she promised.
"Where have you been all night, Paula?"
He was worried, not about her safety, but that she might have slipped again. A fallen angel back to her old ways... flowing into the arms of another. Allen never forgave her. Not that she could blame him. If he was the one who'd had the affairs she doubted she'd be able to forgive him either. He should have just left. That'd be the easy way out, for the both of them. Yet there were times when she was glad he didn’t. Like now.
"I just had to get out for a little while, Allen."
"Jesus... is that blood, Paula?"
Oh fuck... she should have been more vigilant. Splatters. Even invisible ones had ways of implicating guilty parties in all sorts of felonies, even if consensual. She watched the crime shows so she knew how the detectives worked. DNA evidence and all that crap. Allen was looking at her face. Her forehead. She reflexively reached a hand over it wiping away any trace.
"Of course not, Allen. Don’t be silly. I'm tired."
"We need to talk, Paula."
"Later, Allen. I'm going upstairs."
Don’t follow me. Not now. We'll talk about this another time. She felt sorry for him. He deserved better. Allen was a good man. Even her mother said so, and that woman rarely had a pleasant word for anyone. Especially her daughter. Disappointment. That's what she saw in mother's eyes. Every time she looked at her... a tired look of despair and sorrow at having birthed such a thing as her.
She heard the doorbell while standing in the shower letting the hot water run down her body and sluice off any filth that might remain. She should have come right home but somehow she couldn’t face Allen at the time, not after doing what needed done. So she'd simply driven around the sleeping city, past the house a dozen times or more, seeing his worried face in the window more than once, like a hollow jack-o-lantern waiting to be lighted.
She hated herself. Maybe the police were talking with Allen even now. Soon the bathroom door would burst open and they'd haul her out naked and dripping to the waiting squad cars, the paddy wagons. Did they still use those? She didn’t know. Probably not. Watch your head. Someone would hold her arms while someone else would snap on the cuffs, cold metal, chafing her wrists, and then lead her outside, shovel her into the back of the cruiser. Naked. They'd all be watching. The neighbors. Smiling their I told you so's to one another.
She shut off the water, stepped out of the shower, and rubbed herself dry. The towel felt unusually soft against her skin. Warm and fluffy. Better get dressed... be ready for them. At least they allowed her that. A little time. Allen probably asked them to at least wait until she was done with her shower. She wiped away the fog from the mirror, brushed out her hair, and dabbed on a bit of makeup. No sense taking one of those celebrity mug shots that she saw all the time in the Enquirer, that rag she always picked up at the checkout counter down at Ralph's.
She heard voices. A man and a woman talking, and then Allen saying something that she couldn’t quite make out. Going to the window she pulled back the blind. Just slightly, so anyone watching might not notice. No police cars. She thought sure the house'd be surrounded by now. In a flash she knew who was downstairs... the two private dicks that Allen hired. Thank God. At least she wouldn’t be going to jail today.
She debated on whether going down to the living room but decided against it. Might seem odd. Wouldn’t do to draw attention to herself. Not now. Instead she filled a glass half full of water, or was it half empty... went to the bedroom, poured out three Xanax tabs in the palm of her left hand, and popping them in her mouth swallowed them down with several swigs. She was tired. Suddenly leaden. Without taking off her clothes she lay down in bed, pulling the covers over her head to block out the light of the day. She had more to do, but it would wait until
2
Tonight. Dark now. she must've slept though for the life of her she thought she'd just laid down. Barely closed her eyes. Remembering. Despite herself, it'd been good to see him again after so long. To feel those strong arms wrapped around her as they danced. Allen hated dancing. Hell, Allen hated everything. Except drinking, of course. He liked that. Oh yes he did.
Hank Lupo was just as she remembered. Oh, maybe a little more frayed around the edges, but weren’t they all? Those who survived? Of course they were. A little flabbier around the middle too. The man had always prided himself on his appearance. But hey, age had a way of drowning even the most hardened of vanities.
"Paula! My God you look good, girl."
It'd been ages since anyone told her that. Yeah, so he was lying. She had a mirror. Still, it was good to hear. And yeah, in the old days she would've fallen right into bed with Hank. But a new and improved Paula had emerged with the passing of the years, or so she liked to think. More likely, though, she'd only been sullied with both the grief and the Xanax. The old double whammy to the psyche. Add in a dash of Allen and the future was complete. Bleak and foreboding... stretching out before her like a million mile highway to nowhere.
Chapter 27—Running
(In Place)
1
She knew how silly she looked. She'd seen other fat people out there trying to run. Blippity bumpity boom. That's why she jogged late at night, when no one could see her and if they did they wouldn’t know who it was. She hadn’t told anyone about her plan to get back into shape, especially Hank. He'd only hold it over her head the way the man was liable to do whenever he figured out your weakness.
"I'll be late tonight, Sally. Don't wait dinner me."
Why did he even bother any longer? She imagined that was the default setting now. It would be a surprise to actually have the man home for a change. But then again, she'd gotten used to the single life, if that's what you'd call a loveless marriage to a cop more married to his work and his whores than to his wife.
She couldn’t hate him. Even though she did her best, the love was far too real. Maybe if she lost some of the weight and could actually walk up the stairs without nearly having a heart attack, Hank might notice her again. But probably not. Hell, even when they were first married he rarely paid her any attention, and when he did, it was just a wham bam thank you ma'am sort.
"Is it still the Picany twins, Hank? Is that what you're working on?"
They'd been forgotten for years until all of a sudden something lighted a fire under his ass again... got him interested in solving one of the most vexing cases he'd ever had, at least to hear him tell it. It had to be those psychics... the blonde who he'd been mad about when they worked together. Hell, she couldn’t blame him. She imagined Liza McNairy would turn the head of the Dalai Lama himself. Oh, he claimed they were only friends, that he looked at Liza as more a daughter than a potential lover. And Sally nearly believed him... nearly.
"I've got those dicks running around stirring up old problems, Sally. The Captain is all up my ass to solve this thing before they do. Christ, doesn’t he realize I'd have done it years ago if I could?"
There were times when she felt sorry for Hank... the stress he was under must be incredible. Yet that was his chosen profession. She'd tried to get him to quit a hundred times or more. She hadn’t even wanted him to join the department. They had his military pension. If you have to work, Hank, why not take a part time job? You know, like at the hardware store. Ha. Right. Can I help you find something, sir? Extension cords? Try aisle twenty.
No, it soon became apparent that Hank was meant to do the job he'd chosen, or that had chosen him. He had a knack for tracking down suspects in cases that were twenty, thirty, even forty years old
. He'd helped to solve dozens of cases over the years. Still, it seemed strange that he didn’t know more about that Johm character and his antics... hadn’t they followed up that lead? And if not, why?
The parents swore the body was Thomas Johm even though several discrepancies were found. Supposedly the dental records didn’t match but the coroner claimed how the accident had dislodged the teeth. The body they found had Johm's rings on its fingers but they were too big. Again, the coroner ruled how the fire had caused shrinkage to the burned corpse. There were several other anomalies as well. It was right in the newspaper for anyone to read. She'd cut out the article and tried giving it to Hank. He wouldn’t even read it. So she pasted the clipping into her scrapbook along with all the others she'd saved during the years. And that was the last of it. Now, though, she pulled out the old scrapbook and browsed through the article once again before adding another.
The parents of Thomas Johm had refused an autopsy on religious grounds. She wasn’t a big time detective like her husband but Sally knew when something didn’t smell right. And now the man who claimed to be Thomas Johm for the last twenty years was dead again. And sure enough, he wasn’t who he claimed to be... he was actually Jonathan Baker, that boy who'd been stalking the twins, taking those filthy pictures. She could have told them that years ago but nobody wanted to listen to fat Sally. Times were changing, though. Pretty soon they'd all know.
She'd always slept well. That, and eat. The two seemed to go together. Now, though, for the first time in her life, she couldn’t sleep a wink. Try as she might, she just lay there in the dark listening to the house settle and waiting to hear Hank's car pull into the driveway. Which of course it rarely did. On another stakeout, Sally baby. You know how it works. Don't wait dinner on me.
One day Hank would come home to an empty house. Would he even notice she was gone? How quickly would he move another floozy in to take her place? Jesus... if she ever left Hank another man would be the last thing she wanted. No, this was her time now. When she left—and she would sooner rather than later—she'd find some warm out of the way place
2
Where no one knew her and where she could be herself... simply Sally. An island, maybe, where she might even learn how to sleep again. She wondered if her insomnia and her diet and exercise regimen were all somehow interrelated. As the pounds slipped away, so did the slumbers that used to take her down to that place of peace and repose where she could forget all her troubles if only for a few hours. Now there was no reprieve.
"You know, Sally, I don’t mean to be cruel, but it seems like the house is looking a tad awful lately. Did you fire the maid?"
Ha fucking ha. Like she ever had a maid. Yeah. Notice the house but not me. Hey! Can't you see I've lost seventy five pounds over the last six months? Of course not. Astute observer Detective First Class Hank Lupo, reporting for duty, sir. Always right on top of things. Ready to solve those cold cases at a moment's notice. Never mind that I'm a first class prick too. Yep. Pricky dick, that's me.
'I'm sorry, Hank. I'm get after things right away."
"I know you will, sweetie. Bye now. Gotta go, gotta run, gotta get it."
Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you, baby. Hey, I know. Why don't I go out back, run a puddle of water in the back yard, and grovel in the mud like the pig that I am, big old fat Sally. Take off all my clothes and just get filthy. Come back inside and have a roll in good old Hank's fine and fancy bed. Jesus, Hank, I have no idea how that happened. It must've been that goddamned maid not doing her job again.
At least he trusted her. Otherwise why would he leave so much cash stashed about the house in various hiding spots? Maybe he thought he was the sly one. Poor old Sally, just dumber than dirt. She'll never find my cache. And so what if she does? What's she gonna do, run off with my hard earned money? Not Sally. Hell, that woman's never been outside the county, much less the country. Nope. My shit's safe with her.
"Maybe we can take a vacation one of these days, Sally. Jesus, I must have a year and a half of time saved up by now."
Yeah, Hank. Let me hold my breath. You, take time off from your precious job? What the hell would the Captain do without your silly ass to order around? That man farts and you're all up in his stuff trying to figure out what he had for dinner last night. Old detectives never die. They just pontificate away.
"That's be wonderful, sweetie. Maybe we could drive out and visit the kids."
"Sure we can, Sally. Just let me tie up a few loose ends and we're on our way."
Of course we are, Hank. I'll get to packing right away, as soon as I'm done cleaning the house from top to bottom and remodeling the kitchen. It's looking a little dingy, don't you know.
Chapter 28—Lobotomies
(And Henhouses)
1
"What do you suppose Johm was doing with that girl, Liza?"
"I think a better question might be: what was Johm doing to that girl, DanDan. Did you see her face? She looked like a zombie. Jesus, that shit gives me the jitters."
"I'm guessing she was some sort of sex slave. But you're right. To see her like that freaked me out too."
"How did you know that room was there, Danners? If we hadn’t found it, she might have died inside and no one would've ever known."
"There were four windows on the outside of the house but only three inside. I'm surprised the police didn’t notice that too."
"I didn’t spot it either, DanBoy. What's her name? Did you manage to catch that part too?"
"I didn’t get the chance to touch her, Liza. You know how I work. Maybe we can stop by the hospital later if they haven’t discovered her identity by then."
"The first responders said they believed she'd been drugged. But did you see those scars on her temples? And her head's been shaved recently, like she'd been prepped for surgery. Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Danners?"
"That freak operated on her himself. Probably a lobotomy from the looks of it. That girl wasn’t just drugged, Liza. And from the looks of things, Johm was setting up to perform the same operation on someone else."
He was surprised when Hank allowed them access to Johm's house. The man seemed to have forgotten they were prime suspects in his murder. Or maybe he was giving them a chance to exonerate themselves before turning them over to the long arm of the law. It finally dawned on him that the real truth was that they never were suspects. The man had simply been telling them that to get them to back off the Picany case. But why?
"So our boy Johm's been kidnapping girls off the street, performing brain surgery on them, and keeping them locked up in a secret room in his house. At least until he gets bored with them. And then what, Danners?"
"I overheard one of the paramedics telling the other one how the girl has scars indicative of a kidney removal and that it appears she's missing one lung. What was next? Her heart? Someone butchered that girl, Liza. The question is: why?"
"Could be Johm was a wannabe surgeon. He was practicing his skill set on that girl."
"Or he had help, Liza. It's against the law to sell organs in the United States but just because something's illegal doesn't stop it from happening. I'm guessing Johm was involved in more than just gratifying himself sexually by cutting up girls."
"Jesus, Danners... what a fucking creep."
"Could be a family member found out where she was and decided to teach Johm a lesson."
"Why wouldn’t they take the girl with them?"
"You’re right. Someone had matters to settle with him, though. They took their time doing it too. Like they were enjoying it."
"Johm expected us, Danners. That's why he drugged the girl. To keep her out of the way. He had plans for us."
The case was starting to turn, like the one down
2
In Baja two years ago... the one where the priest performed a string of exorcisms. Why had he tried to cover his actions up? The law would have absolved him as easily as the church. Say three Hail Marys and do o
ne act of contrition, Father.
He worried about Liza. The girl couldn’t take the pressure. She never could. She should be working in real estate or selling car insurance or handing out birthday cards at the local Hallmark store... anything but doing what she did. This was no life for her. The self-medication was slowly killing her. She must know it. She had a mirror even if she hated looking into it. Surely she could see the toll the smack was taking on her. It was only a matter of time before the day came when he rolled up in front of her condo and she didn’t come out.
Christ. Why couldn’t he be normal? He'd snatch up Liza and take her away from all this shit. Go to Europe, maybe, or even down under. Australia was made for starting over. New Zealand. He'd talk her into drying out, get help if need be. They had medication for that these days. Drugs to combat the drugs. They could buy a little chicken ranch and raise Banny hens, big fat roosters, and sell eggs out by the roadside and the only crime they'd try to solve would be which wombat sneaked into the henhouse. Did wombats eat chickens? Hell, who cared. None of that shit would ever happen anyway.
This business with Johm was bad. The way he'd been tortured... someone liked doing it. They used various tools: guns, knives, scissors, screwdrivers, drill bits, and finally a hammer. It was one thing to extract information from a person but quite another to go about it in that fashion. Whoever killed him had some fun doing it. The man had pissed off the wrong person. Either that, or there was a whacko even more demented than Johm on the loose. That seemed unlikely.