But there we had the blood involvement, again. I glanced up at Sally. I knew she'd read the sheets, even though they were officially supposed to restrict themselves to the headers. “So, what do you think?”
She lowered her coffee cup. “I think you ought to call Buffy,” she said.
As I passed through the booking room, and back into the main office, I saw Kevin and Melissa sitting quietly on the old spindle-back chairs we had for “guests.” Uncomfortable because the arms were too low and the backs too erect, they were rejects from the old County Home. All we could get with our budget. Cost our center a dollar each. We split for ten.
“Hi,” I said. “If you two want some coffee”—and I sort of gestured with the old TV tray top we used for our “service”—“just go ask a dispatcher for some.”
“No, thanks,” said Melissa.
“So, how's Hanna?” I asked, mostly to be polite.
“She'll make it,” said Kevin. “What's taking Huck so long?”
“Oh, you know how it is,” I said, pausing for a moment before I left the room. “One thing leads to another, and all the forms we have these days, it's a wonder we get done at all.” The “Aw shucks” civil servant routine isn't always convincing, but sometimes it helps.
I got to my office, and sat the coffee down, and handed Hester the criminal history data that Sally had given me. “Interesting,” I said.
She took it, but didn't look at it right away. Instead, she said, “We've been discussing just where Dan Peale got himself to when he ran out the door.”
“Ah. And?”
“If he made it to the bottom of the hill,” said Huck, “he could probably get a ride. There's quite a lot of traffic on the highway.”
Now, as a deputy for over twenty years in Nation County, I knew that wasn't altogether true. Except during leaf season, when people came from all over to drive through the area and ooh and ah over the trees, there was very little traffic on that road. And the tree colors at night just didn't attract tourists, believe it or not. But I agreed with her by nodding. She might want us to know he'd gotten down and to a ride, I thought, and just didn't want to come right out and say so. Maybe.
Time for the next step. “Okay, now how about Alicia and her boyfriend? What really happened there?”
“How do you mean?”
“Did Dan ask you to bring her to the Mansion? It's important.”
She thought about it for a few seconds before she answered me. “Not really, no.”
“Huck, if there's anything that can get somebody into trouble in a case like this,” said Hester, “it's equivocation.”
Huck sighed. “Look, I'm sure he saw her at the Mansion, but it wasn't the first time he'd seen her.”
“Really?” Hester's eyebrows went up.
“No, he'd seen her at a couple of bars. They'd talked once, I think.” She looked serious. Whether or not she was was up for grabs.
I described the suspect outside Alicia's window to her, fangs and all. “Would he have looked the same as he did behind her apartment the other night?”
She snorted. “Of course not. He was batting the other night.”
“What?”
“Batting. When he gets all costumed up, and goes out and crawls all over buildings, he calls it 'batting.' You know. For when the movie vampires turn into bats.” She looked at each of us. “They really don't, of course. Real vampires can't turn into bats.”
Coming from somebody who professed to believe in vampires, the fact allegation that they couldn't turn into bats was a bit jarring.
“So you don't buy the whole vampire thing?” asked Hester.
“Not the fantastic stuff,” said Huck.
“Back to the case,” I said. “Did he know Randy Baumhagen?”
“I think he'd met him once,” said Huck. “As far as I know.”
“So,” said Hester, “do you think he wanted to … what? Get it on? With Alicia?”
“He wanted to do it with just about every attractive woman he ever met, I think,” said Huck.
“And you knew that when you asked her up?”
“Shit, yes,” said Huck. “But, so did she.”
Hester looked at the criminal history on Peale. The Illinois Peale, since we couldn't find an English version.
“Huck,” she said, “it's illegal for me to share this with you, but this”—and she indicated the sheet I'd handed her—“really indicates that our Mr. Peale is a U.S. citizen.”
Huck just shook her head. “Boy, I dunno. I mean, he's convincing.”
“That kind of reminds me,” I said, and took a drink of coffee. “Did any of you know that Dan Peale was still up on the third floor? When we were there, I mean?”
“Oh, sure. We all did.” I got the impression that she took it for granted that we had, as well. People give us credit at the damndest times.
“Really? All of you?” That surprised me.
“Oh, yeah.” She took a sip, too, using time the way I had. “Jessica and Tatiana, too, I assume. It's his pattern. After he does his thing, you know, with the sex and the blood, and the crystal meth, and all, he takes downers. Sleeps for at least twenty-four hours. It's a psych thing, I believe.” She took another drink. “He goes for a good twenty-four hours, and then sleeps for twenty-four or more.”
“He,” I asked, incredulous, “has twenty-four-hour orgies?”
She nodded, with a little smile, again. “Oh, yeah.”
“And his partner is with him the whole time?”
“Well,” she said, demurely, “he usually has more than one. You know, an appetizer, and then a main course, sort of.”
“Brother” was all I could say.
“Assuming Edie was the 'main course,' ” said Hester, “who might the appetizer have been?”
I think we both thought we were talking to the “appetizer.” Wrong again.
“Melissa, and I think maybe Hanna, too, this time. They both disappeared, off and on, and I didn't actually miss Edie for quite a while.”
“Oh.” Hester was beginning to sound as casual about this as Huck.
“And Melissa really looked beat when she turned up. Too much E, you know? Doubling up.”
“Ecstasy?”
“That's right. That or crystal meth. And whatever else he brought. Or did.” Huck shrugged. “And E always gives Hanna a migraine. Then she can't sleep for a week.”
“Poor dear,” said Hester.
“Yeah.” Huck asked if we needed anything else tonight. “I'm a little tired. Been a day, like I said.”
“You be all right up there?” I was concerned. I felt that Peale was gone by now, but if he was still up there and knew she had been talking to us, she was taking a real chance. In my estimation, anyway.
“Sure. No problem.” She made the “thumbs up” sign again. It was a little strange, as I thought that had gone out thirty years ago. Well, it had with me. Like they say, everything old is new again.
We asked Kevin and Melissa to come back the next day. They said they would, after the funeral. We watched them leave from the outer office.
When they had gone, I looked at Hester. “You believe her?”
“What part?”
“Well, I think she's probably fairly close to the truth with her personal history. Not sure about some of the rest.”
“You mean when she says she had sex with Dan, sex with Kevin, sounds like sex with Jessica, and was pimping for Dan Peale by bringing Alicia up to that big house? Yeah, I believe that part.” Hester sat on the edge of the secretaries' desk. “Yes. I'd say all that's probably pretty accurate, but maybe just a bit exaggerated?”
“Well, the scars were real.” I shrugged. “That's pretty compelling.”
“I think we'd better watch pretty carefully what she says about Dan Peale,” said Hester. “And reserve judgment. The best lie is ninety-nine percent true, like they say.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Chester, the Mighty Vampire Hunter, told me and Harry that the Renfield persona
lity would have them covering up for their very own vampire. Lying for him.”
“There's a lot she's not telling.” Hester got up. “That's for sure. More coffee out there?”
“What do they see in this guy?” I asked, as we found our way to the kitchen.
“Similar to dope dealers,” she said. “He's got something they need. It's a trade-off, at least until it goes way too far.”
“Like protection or something?”
“Sure. That, and a sense of belonging. Of being somebody who means something. It isn't like he's going to abandon them.”
“Oh. But he can kill 'em?”
“That's going to be the critical question,” she said. “If he can convince them he was justified, or that it was a mistake … ”
TWENTY-THREE
Monday, October 9, 2000
20:38
Hester and I went over our plan of attack. First, we needed to get a warrant issued for Daniel Peale. We now had a home address, and could teletype it to his home county. They should be able to pick him up, if he was home.
“Don't forget to add a 'Use Caution' to that warrant,” said Hester. “He did try to gut Borman.”
“Don't worry.” It would have to be a warrant for assault only, at this point. We had sufficient evidence to bring him in on the Borman assault. We didn't have nearly enough to try to take him on murder. Not yet. But an assault on a police officer would get plenty of attention.
Then, we thought it behooved us to get to those house blueprints over in Lake Geneva. When we went over to interview Jessica, which we should do tomorrow, as well.
“If they get Peale in Illinois, it could take a while to get him up to Iowa, even if he waives extradition.”
“Absolutely,” said Hester. “Which he would be foolish to do.” She paused. “You think we should go to the funeral?”
“Naw. We put in an appearance at the wake. Not necessary to go tomorrow.”
“Good,” said Hester. “I don't have anything appropriate in my little duty bag that I keep in the car. I don't think I'll have to go back home for three more days, as long as I don't have to get all dressed up for something. And as long as the State keeps paying my motel bill.”
“This is one place you never have to get dressed up,” I said. “Ever.”
I got the warrant from a magistrate in Manchester, the County Seat of adjoining Delaware County, who was the one on night duty in our district. A fifty-mile drive, each way. I got home at midnight.
Sue had left a casserole in the refrigerator, with a note on the door that directed me to it. There was another note on the microwave, warning me to keep the dish covered so it wouldn't spatter.
After I ate, I got upstairs and found a note on the bathroom mirror. “Don't forget that the fourteenth is the birthday party for Betsy.” A cousin. I would have, and probably would again, anyway. We were to be hosting the family for the afternoon and evening, since it was my day off. Fourteen guests, and our daughter, Jane, was coming home from Michigan for the event.
I hated the way we had to communicate with notes so much. I mean I know that some couples write to each other. But they're the ones who live apart, for God's sake.
I wrote on the bottom of the note that I'd be there no matter what. I hoped I was right. Then I took my flashlight, and, holding my hand over the lens and letting just a little light shine between my fingers, I crept into the bedroom, and turned down the blanket.
“It's okay,” came a sleepy voice. “I couldn't sleep. How'd the day go?”
“Fine,” I said. “No problems.”
I went out like the proverbial light.
The phone rang, and stopped after the second ring. I rolled over and looked at the clock. 07:48. I was the only one in bed, and Sue left for school at eight. She had probably gotten the call downstairs. I turned back over.
Sue said my name, from the bedroom door. “Carl?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“It's for you. The office.”
“Okay,” I mumbled. “Thanks.” I rolled back over, and reached out for the phone by the bed. “Yeah?”
“You better come out right away,” said Gwen, who should have been gone.
“Why are you still at work?” I asked.
“Bad wreck down by Freeman's Grove about zero two hundred,” she said. “Just getting ready to go. But you have to come out right away, and get up to the Freiberg Funeral Home.”
“What's up?” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
“I don't know. Really. But the Freiberg officer, Byng, says we need the investigator there right away.”
“Can you give me a guess?” I asked.
“All I know is that we got a call about ten minutes ago from the funeral home, and they requested an officer. He got there, and I thought it was just some traffic arrangement thing, you know, for the funeral today. And I think he did, too. And then Byng called on the phone, and said not to say anything over the radio, and not to tell Lamar.”
It all came out in a rush, and she just about lost me. “Right,” I said. “But no idea why?”
“No. And he said that he'd be very busy, and not to call him until you get there.”
Unusual. Very unusual.
I was in the car and en route to Freiberg by 07:59. Not bad, considering. There had been some very cold coffee standing in the pot, left over from yesterday morning. I'd slurped some from a cup, and winced. But it was coffee.
It was a school day, so I kept it under seventy all the way up, but I did turn on my red lights. Didn't encounter a single school bus. Figured.
I went out of the car on the radio at 08:18, at the Freiberg Funeral Home.
The first person I met was Mrs. Marteen, the director's wife, who was very pale and fluttering around like some sort of demented butterfly. All she said was “This way, this way,” as she ushered me into the back.
The funeral director and Byng were standing back by the vault where they would keep a body when it wasn't being viewed. The door was pretty big, in order to permit the easy passage of the coffins.
“What happened?” It's the best question.
“It's awful,” said the director. “Terrible. Just terrible.”
Byng said, “Broke into the vault, here, Carl, and I found a place out back where it looks like they might have come in through an unlocked window. No breaks, though.”
“Okay. What's missing?” I had an incredible feeling of dread that somebody had taken Edie's body.
“Nothing as far as we can tell,” he said. “But you better see this.”
We entered the well-lit, cool vault, and I could see that Edie's coffin was opened. I came around the right side, and looked down at her.
“Aw, shit,” I said.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
There was a crude wooden stake protruding from the center of her chest.
TWENTY-FOUR
Tuesday, October 10, 2000
08:35
“Where's your phone?” I asked the director.
He led me back toward the main part of the building. “What's wrong with this world today?” he asked.
“Lots,” I said.
“Don't let anybody touch anything,” I said to Byng. “After I make a call, I'm going to get my camera, and then take a bunch of photos. Stay around.” The last thing I wanted was to have an esthetically offended funeral director pull the stake out. As I dialed, it occurred to me that we had about three or four hours before the funeral.
“Sheriff's Department,” said Sally.
“It's me, Houseman. Get Hester up here, and don't let Lamar know anything about my being here until I can talk to him personally. Call Doc Z., tell him we're going to have a question. Then get Dr. Peters, the forensics man, on the phone and ask if he can call me up here. Tell him it's very urgent.”
“Right. What's going on?”
“Not over the phone,” I said. Then it came to me that mothers, even estranged ones, might want to pay a visit on the deceased before the f
uneral. “Hang on a second.” I put my hand over the receiver and raised my voice so the funeral director or his wife could hear, wherever they had chosen to be to give me privacy on the phone. “Mr. Marteen? Could you come here a sec?” He appeared almost instantly. He hadn't been too far, probably within earshot. “Can you tell me if any relatives will be here much before the funeral starts?”
“Many times they are. I don't know about this one.”
“And what time is the funeral?”
“Eleven. And the luncheon is at St. Elmer's, as well.” Habit.
“Thanks.” I talked back into the phone. “Look, you better have Lamar give me a call up here right away.”
“Okay.”
“We gotta move really fast on this one,” I said. “Later.”
I hung the phone up. “We might have to delay the funeral a bit,” I said to Mr. Marteen. “Maybe not. Will you come here and see if you think we can close the lid with that damned thing still in her?”
“How will I explain that?”
It was a fair question. “Just tell them it's at the request of the family,” I said. “After all, everybody got a chance to see her yesterday at the wake.”
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